Classic Poem

H ERE'S the road to independence!
Who would bow and dance attendance?
Who, with e'er a spark of pride,
While the bush is wild and wide,
Would be but a hanger on,
Begging favors from a throne,
While beneath yon smiling sun
Farms by labor can be won?
Up, be stirring, be alive!
Get upon a farm and thrive!
He's a king upon a throne
Who has acres of his own!

Tho' the cabin's walls are bare,
What of that, if love is there?
What altho' thy back is bent,
There is none to hound for rent;
What tho' thou must chop and plow,
None dare ask, “What doest thou?”
What tho' homespun be thy coat,
Kings might envy thee thy lot.
Up, be stirring, be alive!
Get upon a farm and thrive!
He's a king upon a throne
Who has acres of his own!
Honest labor thou would'st shirk?
Thou art far too good for work?
Such gentility's a fudge—
True men all must toil and drudge.
Nature's true nobility
Scorns such mock gentility!
Fools but talk of blood and birth—
Ev'ry man must prove his worth.
Up, be stirring, be alive!
Get upon a farm and thrive!
He's a king upon a throne
Who has acres of his own!