Classic and Contemporary Poetry
GREASING BOOTS IN VERMONT, by DANIEL LEAVENS CADY Poet's Biography First Line: To keep a feller's boots in trim Last Line: When settled weather struck your boots. Subject(s): Animals; Cows; Farm Life; Fields; Labor & Laborers; Vermont; Agriculture; Farmers; Pastures; Meadows; Leas; Work; Workers | ||||||||
TO keep a feller's boots in trim, In former days was up to him; No valet with his lasts and trees Was 'round to put your feet at ease; Each boy was taught a-what to do To make his cowhides winter through; Each grown-up knew by head and heart The gentle leather-softening art, And life, aside from small disputes, Was largely passed in greasing boots. The grease pail of that elder day Was kept inside the sullerway, Up near the unburnt brick and corks With which you scoured the knives and forks; You took a pail of common tin, And put ten parts of taller in, Then three of hens' oil, no; 'twas two, And then a little lampblack, Whew! Behold the stuff that constitutes The massage cream of cowhide boots. The night you saw a ribald hue Around the taps, a-coming through, You got your bootjack mighty quick, Before your boots begun to stick, Removed your boots, but left your feet, And set the grease pail on to heat; A-next you looked your cowhides o'er, Then spread a paper on the floor, And then fell tofor action suits The soul that broods o'er ungreased boots. The while your left hand went inside The leg, your right the stuff applied; You give 'em first a priming coat, The same as you would paint a boat; It struck in quick and then you went Around again like fish in Lent, And when you set 'em down to dry, If you was young, you heaved a sigh And thought of shows and turkey shoots, Or anything but greasing boots. Then if you saw a little rose, Or red, around the taps and toes, You slapped some further ointment on And rubbed until your strength was gone, Then looked 'em over good once more, To see if they was twelve by four, Then slammed 'em down beside the stove And let your boyish fancy rove To lands of sun and flowers and fruits, Where there was neither grease nor boots. And then you used to clean your hand Two kinds of soap and three of sand; Some ashes, emery, grit and lye, And pumice stone, if handy by; But one thing pleased you, anyway, You only oiled but once a day, And through the Summer into Fall You scarcely had to oil at all: You felt as free as gulls and coots When settled weather struck your boots. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AFTER WORKING SIXTY HOURS AGAIN FOR WHAT REASON by HICOK. BOB DAY JOB AND NIGHT JOB by ANDREW HUDGINS BIXBY'S LANDING by ROBINSON JEFFERS ON BUILDING WITH STONE by ROBINSON JEFFERS LINES FROM A PLUTOCRATIC POETASTER TO A DITCH-DIGGER by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS IN CALIFORNIA: MORNING, EVENING, LATE JANUARY by DENISE LEVERTOV A VERMONT 'DONATION' by DANIEL LEAVENS CADY |
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