Part 7 (2/2)

And lay and read, while me and Bill Got out and dun the work, And airned a decent livin' fer This lazy, wuthless s.h.i.+rk.

But Sue, she wuz a hansum gal; Her cheek wuz like the rose; Her breth wuz sweet as any breeze The June-time ever blows.

Her eyes wuz dark and full of fire, Her cheeks wuz churry red, Her body sort o' willery, But she'd a haughty head.

But if you wanted her to work She never could be found; And, mebby, if you scoured the farm And all the country round,

You'd find her sittin' in a tree A-whistlin' o' the tune She'd heered the medder lark a-singin'

To the skies o' June.

And so one nite I called 'em in, I think jest arter tea.

Sez I, ”We've clothed and edecated you-- Yer Ma and me;

But now we're gettin' old, our j'ints O' roomatism tells, And it's high time fer you to airn A livin' fer yoursel's.”

Our kids wuz proud as eny Indiany's ever grown, And so, afore another month They left us all alone.

Bill went to Philadelphy town And hired to a store As keeps all sorts o' things in lots, Oh, millions,--mebby more.

Sal went to work fer Deken Dobbs, And Joe went off to sea; But Jim turned out an editor-- A mighty man wuz he.

Along k.u.m one o' them air shows With gals that danced and sang; And, spite of all her ma could say, Our Sue, she j'ined the gang.

As years went by our Bill he wed A hansum city wife, And went to livin' in accord With high-dad city life.

The children k.u.m till he possessed O' them a mammoth fold; And ever'thing he teched jest seemed To turn to yaller gold.

Sal, wed to Deken Dobbs's son, Wuz happy, but so poor; And meny children played around Her country cabin door.

But then she loved that wuthless man, And p'raps, when all is told, She's happier 'n she would 'a' bin If she had wed fer gold.

The last I heered of rompin' Sue, I b'lieve it wuz a ”hit”

They called it that she made in France, And ever' night she'd git

Great piles o' flowers, roses and sich, O' yaller, red and white; And ever' time she danced she fetched Ten thousan' francs a night!

But Jim--poor Jim! our lazy boy-- He did'nt fare so well; He's good in larnin', but, somehow, His paper didn't sell.

But why it didn't I can't tell, And of'n wonder yit; Fer when the people brung in stuff As fer his paper writ

Thet didn't sound jest right to him, And wuzn't right in looks, He allus tuk and made it right, Fer Jim wuz good in books.

He know'd about the president, Congress and senate, too; Could tell you all that they hed done And what they'd ort to do.

And when he found he couldn't make Enuff to buy a bike, He _walked_ off down the railroad track Toward the Klonindike.

But do you know that wuthless Joe Turned out the best of all?

When down-trod Cuby needed help, He answered duty's call,

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