Classic Poem

You can always tell a loafer, if there's loafin' in the crew;
You can always tell a loafer, for he has so much to do:
When the men are in the maintop he is fussin' with a jib;
On the drive he's always lookin' for a chance away to snib;
In the woods the smallest timber is the timber he will find;
In the yard the twelve-by-twenty is the kind he leaves behind.
He will fuss an' he will fiddle huntin' up the softest snap:
Life is one eternal treadmill for the take-it-easy chap.
Yes, it takes a lot of trouble skippin' labor day by day;
For a fellah has to figger how to dodge it all the way.
On the drive or in the timber, in the mill or in the yard,
You can always tell a loafer, 'cause he works so bloomin' hard.