Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, A VERMONT RASCAL, by DANIEL LEAVENS CADY



Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

Rhyming Dictionary Search
A VERMONT RASCAL, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: Most every town has got, I guess ...'
Last Line: He'll have no gravestone when he's gone.
Subject(s): Country Life; Vermont


'MOST every town has got, I guess,
A chronic case of wickedness,
Some scout to whom no sheep belong
Who smells of mutton mighty strong;
Who, minus cow and apple trees,
Enjoys his cider with his cheese;
A gray old rat, with income slim,
Yet outwardly it does for him;
Of course, if he should break his leg
He'd have to sue the town or beg.

He drives a horse that's adder blind
And never has her shod behind;
He teams a little—more or less,
With that old long low-seat express,
The tailboard marks on which are thought
By most to mean a charge of shot;
He's been a-met past midnight twice
On Cobble Hill by Doctor Price;
The night the butcher shop was burnt
He wan't to home, the sheriff learnt.

His wife's the kind that likes to shine,
And would if she was yourn or mine;
She likely comes from "down below"
And likely dressmaked years ago;
Her snow-white hair, black silk and veil
Are all that keeps him out of jail;
The moment that her dress departs
For church, he grabs his pole and starts
To fish up Barret's brook, and then
Down Story's brook a-home again.

The boy that builds a dam and gets
A pair of pretty trout for pets,
Some summer morning wipes his eye
For old Bill Boyd has seen 'em fry;
The day you put away your meat
He's 'round a-looking sharp and sweet;
Your new potates, however new,
He's sure to taste ahead of you;
You've got to watch your butnut trees
The very night there comes a freeze.

No fowl will ever roost in peace
Till Bill's dishonest breath shall cease;
No corncrib door will rest content
Till Bill's suspicious life is spent;
All piggery pens will feel a chill
Till excarnation tackles Bill;
The only comfort folks can draw
From this old life opposed to law
Is, that is may be counted on
He'll have no gravestone when he's gone.





Other Poems of Interest...



Home: PoetryExplorer.net