He aint no great shakes for to labour, though I've laboured with him a
good deal,
And give him some strappin' good arguments I know he couldn't help but to
feel;
But he's built out of second-growth timber, and nothin' about him is big,
Exceptin' his appetite only, and there he's as good as a pig.
I keep him a carryin' luncheons, and fillin' and bringin' the jugs,
And take him among the pertatoes, and set him to pickin' the bugs;
And then there is things to be doin' a helpin' the women indoors;
There's churnin' and washin' o' dishes, and other descriptions of chores;
But he don't take to nothin' but victuals, and he'll never be much, I'm
afraid.
So I thought it would be a good notion to larn him the editor's trade.
His body's too small for a farmer, his judgment is rather too slim,
But I thought we perhaps could be makin' an editor outen o' him!
It aint much to get up a paper, it wouldn't take him long for to learn;
He could feed the machine, I am thinkin', with a good strappin' fellow to
turn.
Pages:
452
453
454
455
456
457
458
459
460
461
462
463
464
465
466
467
468
469
470
471
472
473
474
475
476