 | Songs of two centuries |  |
152
ALWAYS A “KICK.”
Farmer, how was your wheat this year?—
Thrifty of stalk and head;
Plump of kernel and cleanly grown:
Better than any I ever have known:—
The smiling farmer said.
Thrifty of stalk and head;
Plump of kernel and cleanly grown:
Better than any I ever have known:—
The smiling farmer said.
How was your crop of corn this year,
Marketed, floured, or fed?
Sleek and thick and yellow as gold,
And never a frost till the season was old:—
The smiling farmer said.
Marketed, floured, or fed?
Sleek and thick and yellow as gold,
And never a frost till the season was old:—
The smiling farmer said.
How are your oats and barley and rye,
Your apples of green and red?
How did the hay and potatoes thrive?
Never better since man was alive:—
The candid farmer said.
Your apples of green and red?
How did the hay and potatoes thrive?
Never better since man was alive:—
The candid farmer said.
Farmer, what was the guerdon you gained
For crops that you marketed?
Prices stood at the very top,
And beckoned and beckoned for every crop:—
The smiling farmer said.
For crops that you marketed?
Prices stood at the very top,
And beckoned and beckoned for every crop:—
The smiling farmer said.
Then you have nothing to grumble about,
But praise and rejoice instead!—
Well, but then you must understand,
Such crops draw terribly on the land!
The grumbling farmer said.
But praise and rejoice instead!—
Well, but then you must understand,
Such crops draw terribly on the land!
The grumbling farmer said.
| Songs of two centuries | |