THER' ain't no use in all this strife, An' hurryin', pell-mell, right thro' life. I don't believe in goin' too fast To see what kind o' road you've passed. It ain't no mortal kind o' good, 'N' I would n't hurry ef I could. I like to jest go joggin' 'long, To limber up my soul with song; To stop awhile 'n' chat the men, 'N' drink some cider now an' then. Do' want no boss a-standin' by To see me work; I allus try To do my dooty right straight up, An' earn what fills my plate an' cup. An' ez fur boss, I'll be my own, I like to jest be let alone, To plough my strip an' tend my bees, An' do jest like I doggoned please. My head's all right, an' my heart's meller, But I'm a easy-goin' feller. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...D.G.C. TO J.A by EMILY JANE BRONTE RECESSIONAL by RUDYARD KIPLING HENDECASYLLABICS by ALFRED TENNYSON THE CHILD IN A GARDEN by MARIA ABDY INSTRUCTIONS, SUPPOSED TO BE WRITTEN IN PARIS, FOR THE MOB IN ENGLAND by MARY (CUMBERLAND) ALCOCK ON HOMER'S BIRTHPLACE by ANTIPATER OF SIDON |