 | 'Weh Down Souf and other Poems : |  |
85
MAT.
In the swamp by a black gum, in a little log hut
Lived Mat,
The toughest little fellow, in tatters and rags
At that;
“A reg'lar good-for-nothing,” the neighbors all vowed.
He would rob a hen's nest; not a melon he allowed
To remain in the patch—yet we, for all that
Liked Mat.
Lived Mat,
The toughest little fellow, in tatters and rags
At that;
“A reg'lar good-for-nothing,” the neighbors all vowed.
He would rob a hen's nest; not a melon he allowed
To remain in the patch—yet we, for all that
Liked Mat.
With his tatters all flying and a crownless hat
Came Mat
'Cross the hill by the corn-field and “sweet-tater” patch,
And that
Was a sign that the “taters” and corn had disappeared,
For when Mat was about, why everybody feared;
But, then, when you saw him your sorrow changed that
For Mat.
Came Mat
'Cross the hill by the corn-field and “sweet-tater” patch,
And that
Was a sign that the “taters” and corn had disappeared,
For when Mat was about, why everybody feared;
But, then, when you saw him your sorrow changed that
For Mat.
86
For ten or eleven little brothers and sisters
Had Mat,
And his poor mother labored to feed and to clothe them
At that;
And work in the country, when you wash the whole day,
And receive but a quarter is mighty poor pay,—
No wonder he was ragged, and would steal at that,
Poor Mat!
Had Mat,
And his poor mother labored to feed and to clothe them
At that;
And work in the country, when you wash the whole day,
And receive but a quarter is mighty poor pay,—
No wonder he was ragged, and would steal at that,
Poor Mat!
Yet, the world often wonders, as it speeds on its way,
At the Mats,
Who are reared in ignorance, the world's “good-for-nothings;”
But for that,
How many called better, who have ne'er felt the smart
Of poverty's nettle can boast of a heart
As free from guile and as tender as that
Of Mat.
At the Mats,
Who are reared in ignorance, the world's “good-for-nothings;”
But for that,
How many called better, who have ne'er felt the smart
Of poverty's nettle can boast of a heart
As free from guile and as tender as that
Of Mat.
| 'Weh Down Souf and other Poems : | |