Poetic Gems | ||
11
THE FARMER'S SOLILOQUY.
“Oh! for a thousand tongues to sing
My great Redeemer's praise;
The glories of my Lord and King,
The triumphs of His grace.”
My great Redeemer's praise;
The glories of my Lord and King,
The triumphs of His grace.”
Oh! for a thousand cedar posts
To fence my garden 'round,
To hinder the neighbors' pigs and goats
From rooting up my potato ground.
To fence my garden 'round,
To hinder the neighbors' pigs and goats
From rooting up my potato ground.
Oh! for a thousand hickory rails,
To make my fence secure;
A thousand patent locks and keys,
To lock my stable door.
To make my fence secure;
A thousand patent locks and keys,
To lock my stable door.
Oh! for a thousand bricks and stones,
To build my chimney higher,
To keep the neighbors' boys and girls
From putting out my fire.
To build my chimney higher,
To keep the neighbors' boys and girls
From putting out my fire.
Oh! for a thousand old shot guns,
That I might be a match,
For all the tramps that I can find
In my watermelon patch.
That I might be a match,
For all the tramps that I can find
In my watermelon patch.
Oh! for a thousand pumpkin seeds,
To plant for my son John;
He says that pumpkin pies are good
When the winter time comes on.
To plant for my son John;
He says that pumpkin pies are good
When the winter time comes on.
Oh! for a thousand cribs of corn,
Filled chuck up to the beam;
And a thousand pails that's good and strong,
To keep the milk and cream.
Filled chuck up to the beam;
And a thousand pails that's good and strong,
To keep the milk and cream.
Oh! for a thousand turnip beds,
Placed all into a row;
Lord! please send a little rain,
To make the 'tatoes grow.
Placed all into a row;
Lord! please send a little rain,
To make the 'tatoes grow.
12
Oh! for a thousand tongues to ask
My maker, who's on high,
To keep my smoke-house filled with meal,
Fat bacon, rock and rye.
My maker, who's on high,
To keep my smoke-house filled with meal,
Fat bacon, rock and rye.
Now, Lord, I close my humble prayer,
Which (to some) may seem a vision;
Numbers ask for all I've named,
Whilst few ask for religion.
Which (to some) may seem a vision;
Numbers ask for all I've named,
Whilst few ask for religion.
Poetic Gems | ||