'Tain't no use a-sittin' here
And peerin' at the sun,
A-wishin' I had purty things,
Afore my work is done.
I best had bug the taters
And fetch water from the run
And save my time fer wishin'
When all my work is done.
Paw heerd the squirrels a-barkin'
This morning on the hill,
And taken him his rifle-gun
And tonic fer his chill.
Menfolks ain't got no larnin'
And have no time to fill;
Paw spends his days in huntin'
Or putterin' round his still.
"'Tain't no use complainin'"
Is the song the wood thrush sings,
And I don't know of nothin'
That's as sweet as what he brings.
But I best had comb my honey
And churn that sour cream,
And listen to the wood thrush
When I ketch time to dream.
Sometimes I feel so happy
As I hoe the sproutin' corn;
To hear, far off upon the ridge,
The call of Paw's cow horn.
Then I know it's time for milkin'
And my long day's work is through,
And I kin sit upon the stoop
And make my dreams come true.
I'll dream me a wish fer a shiney new hoe,
And some dishes, an ax and a saw:
And a calico shroud with a ribbon and bow
And a new houn' dawg fer Paw.
--John W. Preble, Jr.