 | Poetry of the Farm and Rural Life |  |
The Wit said that his mother's brother,
Or great-grandfather—one or t'other—
Scud in a dreadful gale at sea
That blew straight to eternity,
Ninety-six knots an hour, with all
The masts gone o'erboard in the squall,
And nothing but one scupper nail
Stuck in the deck in place of sail;
While o'er it stood one of the crew
To drive it in, if worse it blew!
Or great-grandfather—one or t'other—
Scud in a dreadful gale at sea
That blew straight to eternity,
88
The masts gone o'erboard in the squall,
And nothing but one scupper nail
Stuck in the deck in place of sail;
While o'er it stood one of the crew
To drive it in, if worse it blew!
| Poetry of the Farm and Rural Life | |