 | Camps and Firesides of the Revolution |  |
3. A Poor Man's
Possessions
BY JOHN SECCOMB (1730)[5]
To my dear wife,
My joy and life,
I freely now do give her
My whole estate,
With all my plate,
Being just about to leave her.
My joy and life,
I freely now do give her
My whole estate,
With all my plate,
Being just about to leave her.
My tub of soap,
A long cart rope,
A frying pan and kettle,
An ashes pail,
A threshing flail,
An iron wedge and beetle.
A long cart rope,
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An ashes pail,
A threshing flail,
An iron wedge and beetle.
Two painted chairs,
Nine warden pears,
A large old dripping platter,
This bed of hay,
On which I lay,[6]
An old saucepan for butter.
Nine warden pears,
A large old dripping platter,
This bed of hay,
On which I lay,[6]
An old saucepan for butter.
A little mug,
A two-quart jug,
A bottle full of brandy,
A looking glass,
To see your face,
You'll find it very handy.
A two-quart jug,
A bottle full of brandy,
A looking glass,
To see your face,
You'll find it very handy.
A musket true
As ever flew,
A pound of shot and wallet,
A leather sash,
My calabash,
My powder horn and bullet.
As ever flew,
A pound of shot and wallet,
A leather sash,
My calabash,
My powder horn and bullet.
A greasy hat,
My old tom-cat,
A yard and half of linen,
A woolen fleece,
A pot of grease,
In order for your spinning.
My old tom-cat,
A yard and half of linen,
A woolen fleece,
A pot of grease,
In order for your spinning.
A small tooth comb,
An ashen broom,
A candlestick and hatchet,
A coverlid
Striped down with red,
A bag of rags to patch it.
An ashen broom,
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A coverlid
Striped down with red,
A bag of rags to patch it.
A ragged mat,
A tub of fat,
A book put out by Bunyan,
Another book
By Robin Cook,
A skein or two of spunyarn,
A tub of fat,
A book put out by Bunyan,
Another book
By Robin Cook,
A skein or two of spunyarn,
An old black muff,
Some garden stuff,
A quantity of borage,
Some devil's weed
And burdock seed,
To season well your porridge.
Some garden stuff,
A quantity of borage,
Some devil's weed
And burdock seed,
To season well your porridge.
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A chafing dish,
With one salt fish,
If I am not mistaken,
A leg of pork,
A broken fork,
And half a flitch of bacon.
A spinning wheel,
One peck of meal,
A knife without a handle,
A rusty lamp,
Two quarts of samp,
And half a tallow candle.
My pouch and pipes,
Two oxen tripes,
An oaken dish well carved,
My little dog
And spotted hog,
With two young pigs just starved.
This is my store,
I have no more,
I heartily do give it,
My years are spun,
My days are done,
And so I think to leave it.
Thus father Abbey left his spouse,
As rich as church or college mouse,
Which is sufficient invitation
To serve the college in his station.
With one salt fish,
If I am not mistaken,
A leg of pork,
A broken fork,
And half a flitch of bacon.
A spinning wheel,
One peck of meal,
A knife without a handle,
A rusty lamp,
Two quarts of samp,
And half a tallow candle.
My pouch and pipes,
Two oxen tripes,
An oaken dish well carved,
My little dog
And spotted hog,
With two young pigs just starved.
This is my store,
I have no more,
I heartily do give it,
My years are spun,
My days are done,
And so I think to leave it.
Thus father Abbey left his spouse,
As rich as church or college mouse,
Which is sufficient invitation
To serve the college in his station.
[[5]]
This piece shows the household furniture and utensils of colonial times. Father Abbey was a bedmaker and sweeper at Harvard College for many years. This is what the poet thought his will might have contained.
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