Come and Go.
Dick Dawdle had land
Worth two hundred a year,
Yet from debt and from dunning
He never was free,
His intellect was not
Surprisingly clear,
But he never felt satisfied
How it could be.
The raps at his door,
And the rings at his gate.
And the threats of a gaol
He no longer could bear:
So he made up his mind
To sell half his estate,
Which would pay all his debts,
And leave something to spare.
He leased to a farmer
The rest of his land
For twenty-one years;
And on each quarter-day
The honest man went
With his rent in his hand,
His liberal landlord
Delighted to pay.
Before half the term
Of the lease had expired,
The farmer, one day
With a bagful of gold,
Said, "Pardon me, sir,
But I long have desired
To purchase my farm,
If the land can be sold.
"Ten years I've been blest
With success and with health,
With trials a few--
I thank God, not severe--
I am grateful. I hope,
Though not proud of my wealth,
But I've managed to lay
By a hundred a year."
"Why how," exclaimed Dick,
"Can this possibly be?"
(With a stare of surprise,
And a mortified laugh,)
"The whole of my farm
Proved too little for me,
And you it appears,
Have grown rich upon half."
"I hope you'll excuse me,"
The farmer replies,
"But I'll tell you the cause,
If your honor would know;
In two little words
All the difference lies,
I always say Come,
And you used to say Go."
"Well, and what does that mean,
My good fellow?" he said.
"Why this, sir, that I
Always rise with the sun;
You said 'Go' to your man,
As you lay in your bed,
I say 'Come, Jack, with me,'
And I see the work done."