Classic Poem

Delightful change from the town's abode,
Is a charming drive on a country road;
From the stifling air of the city's street
To the perfumed breath of the daisies sweet.

You halt your team at the farmer's gate,
He comes to open it; while you wait,
Old Rover comes bounding down the hill
In spite of his master's " Rover, be still! " —
His barking shakes his thick shaggy coat,
While these notes roll from his deep-toned throat: —
Bow-wow-wow-wow!
Bow-wow-wow-wow!

On either side the fat hens take leg,
While others announce a new-laid egg: —
Cut-cut-cut — cu-da-cut!
Cut-cut-cut — cu-da-cut!
The rooster, shrill spokesman for the brood,
Says — one-third polite and two-thirds rude: —
I'm Cock-a-doodle-do!
And who the deuce are you?

The ducks and drakes have the self-same quack —
They're just alike, save the curl at the back;
For " divers " reasons they go to the pond,
For " sun-dry " reasons they strut around,
And waddle off like sailors a-spreeing.
And talk like doctors when disagreeing: —
Quack-quack-quack-quack!
Quack-quack-quack-quack!

The turkey gobbler comes charging round
With ruffled temper and wings aground;
For fear he might his foe overtake
He gives alarm, then puts on the brake: —
Plip-gobble-obble-obble!
Plip-gobble-obble-obble!

The hog in the trough, with dirty feet;
The more you give him the more he'll eat;
This gourmand finds nothing to desire
When half asleep in the half-dried mire: —
R-r-r-ough-ff! — r-r-r-ough-ff!
R-r-r-ough-ff! — r-r-r-ough-ff!

The sow is teaching her litter of shoats
To speak hog-Latin with guttural throats: —
Ugh-ee! ugh-ee! ugh-ee! ugh-ee!
Ugh-ee! ugh-ee! ugh-ee! ugh-ee!

The calf and lamb at distance dispute
The right of bin with the horned brute;
Their blat and bleat the hard-headed scorns
Where right and wrong's a question of horns: —
Bah! bah! — Beh-eh-eh-eh-eh!
Bah! bah! — Beh-eh-eh-eh-eh!

The barefoot boy, from the tender rows
Of corn, is driving the " pesky crows " ;
He stubs his toe, and they mock his pain: —
He throws a stone and they're off again: —
Caw-caw-caw-caw!
Caw-caw-caw-caw!

From out the meadow the lowing kine,
Treading the buttercups, come in line;
Come with their soft tread through the grass,
Answer the call of the farmer's lass: —
Co'boss! co'boss! co'boss! — moo!
Co'boss! co'boss! co'boss! — moo!

They stand there meekly chewing their cud,
Whacking their sides with a sudden thud
To battle the flies; the swinging tail
Meanwhile drops down in the frothing pail;
So boss! so boss! so! so! so!
Stand still, Brindle! Heist! so! so!

The king of the herd, imprisoned afield,
Is hooking the bars, quite loath to yield!
He paws up the earth with muscles tense,
And then, pacing down the long line-fence,
On neighboring chief, with haughty mien
And challenge hoarse, he vents his spleen: —
Mow-ow-ush! mow-ow-ush!
Mow-oo! mow-oo! ow-ush!

The mare, knee deep in the clover bed,
Caresses her nursing thoroughbred;
The well-fed oxen in stanchions meek;
The plowboy grooming his horses sleek;
They whisk their tails and nip at his back,
While down the curry-comb comes a-whack;
" Whoa, Dan! you rascal, stand still!
Cxh! cxh! cxh! Gee up thar, Bill! "

The barn well filled with the bursting sheaves;
The swallows twittering 'neath the eaves
Their song of plenty. The farmer's heart
And barn are full! — while he walks apart
And chants his thankfulness as he goes
By whistling the only tune he knows: —
" Yankee Doodle! "