Farm Ballads | Page 9

its cinders toward the sky;?The old clock ticked on the corner-shelf--?I wound it an' set it agoin' myself;?An' if every thing wasn't just the same,?Neither I nor money was to blame;?Then--over the hill to the poor-house!
One blowin', blusterin' winter's day,?With a team an' cutter I started away;?My fiery nags was as black as coal;?(They some'at resembled the horse I stole);?I hitched, an' entered the poor-house door--?A poor old woman was scrubbin' the floor;?She rose to her feet in great surprise,?And looked, quite startled, into my eyes;?I saw the whole of her trouble's trace?In the lines that marred her dear old face;?"Mother!" I shouted, "your sorrows is done!?You're adopted along o' your horse-thief son,?Come over the hill from the poor-house!"
She didn't faint; she knelt by my side,?An' thanked the Lord, till I fairly cried.?An' maybe our ride wasn't pleasant an' gay,?An' maybe she wasn't wrapped up that day;?An' maybe our cottage wasn't warm an' bright,?An' maybe it wasn't a pleasant sight,?To see her a-gettin' the evenin's tea,?An' frequently stoppin' and kissin' me;?An' maybe we didn't live happy for years,?In spite of my brothers' and sisters' sneers,?Who often said, as I have heard,?That they wouldn't own a prison-bird;?(Though they're gettin' over that, I guess,?For all of 'em owe me more or less);
But I've learned one thing; an' it cheers a man?In always a-doin' the best he can;?That whether, on the big book, a blot?Gets over a fellow's name or not,?Whenever he does a deed that's white,?It's credited to him fair and right.?An' when you hear the great bugle's notes,?An' the Lord divides his sheep an' goats;?However they may settle my case,?Wherever they may fix my place,?My good old Christian mother, you'll see,?Will be sure to stand right up for me,?With over the hill from the poor-house.
UNCLE SAMMY.
Some men were born for great things,?Some were born for small;?Some--it is not recorded?Why they were born at all;?But Uncle Sammy was certain he had a legitimate call.
Some were born with a talent,?Some with scrip and land;?Some with a spoon of silver,?And some with a different brand;?But Uncle Sammy came holding an argument in each hand.
Arguments sprouted within him,?And twinked in his little eye;?He lay and calmly debated?When average babies cry,?And seemed to be pondering gravely whether to live or to die.
But prejudiced on that question?He grew from day to day,?And finally he concluded?'Twas better for him to stay;?And so into life's discussion he reasoned and reasoned his way.
Through childhood, through youth, into manhood?Argued and argued he;?And he married a simple maiden,?Though scarcely in love was she;?But he reasoned the matter so clearly she hardly could help but agree.
And though at first she was blooming,?And the new firm started strong,?And though Uncle Sammy loved her,?And tried to help her along,?She faded away in silence, and 'twas evident something was wrong.
Now Uncle Sammy was faithful,?And various remedies tried;?He gave her the doctor's prescriptions,?And plenty of logic beside;?But logic and medicine failed him, and so one day she died.
He laid her away in the church-yard,?So haggard and crushed and wan;?And reared her a costly tombstone?With all of her virtues on;?And ought to have added, "A victim to arguments pro and con."
For many a year Uncle Sammy?Fired away at his logical forte:?Discussion was his occupation,?And altercation his sport;?He argued himself out of churches, he argued himself into court.
But alas for his peace and quiet,?One day, when he went it blind,?And followed his singular fancy,?And slighted his logical mind,?And married a ponderous widow that wasn't of the arguing kind!
Her sentiments all were settled,?Her habits were planted and grown,?Her heart was a starved little creature?That followed a will of her own;?And she raised a high hand with Sammy, and proceeded to play it alone.
Then Sammy he charged down upon her?With all of his strength and his wit,?And many a dextrous encounter,?And many a fair shoulder-hit;?But vain were his blows and his blowing: he never could budge her a bit.
He laid down his premises round her,?He scraped at her with his saws;?He rained great facts upon her,?And read her the marriage laws;?But the harder he tried to convince her, the harder and harder she was.
She brought home all her preachers,?As many as ever she could--?With sentiments terribly settled,?And appetites horribly good--?Who sat with him long at his table, and explained to him where he stood.
"WHO SAT WITH HIM LONG AT HIS TABLE, AND EXPLAINED TO HIM WHERE HE STOOD."
And Sammy was not long in learning?To follow the swing of her gown,?And came to be faithful in watching?The phase of her smile and her frown;?And she, with the heel of assertion, soon tramped all his arguments down.
And so, with his life-aspirations?Thus suddenly brought to a check--?And so, with the foot of his victor?Unceasingly pressing his neck--?He wrote on his face, "I'm a victim," and drifted--a logical wreck.
And farmers, whom he had argued?To corners