Classic Poem

1

There walked on Plover's shady banks
One evening last July,
A mother of a shanty-boy,
And doleful was her cry,
Saying, " God be with you, Johnnie,
Although you're far away
Driving saw-logs on the Plover,
And you'll never get your pay.

2

" O Johnnie, I gave you schooling,
I gave you a trade likewise;
You need not been a shanty-boy
Had you taken my advice.
You need not gone from your dear home
To the forest far away,
Diving saw-logs on the Plover?
And you'll never get your pay.

3

" O Johnnie, you were your father's hope,
Your mother's only joy.
Why is it that you ramble so,
My own, my darling boy?
What could induce you, Johnnie,
From your own dear home to stray,
Driving saw-logs on the Plover?
And you'll never get your pay.

4

" Why didn't you stay upon the farm,
And feed the ducks and hens,
And drive the pigs and sheep each night
And put them in their pens?
Far better for you to help your dad
To cut his corn and hay
Than to drive saw-logs on the Plover,
And you'll never get your pay. "

5

A log canoe came floating
Adown the quiet stream.
As peacefully it glided
As some young lover's dream.
A youth crept out upon the bank
And thus to her did say,
" Dear mother, I have jumped the game,
And I haven't got my pay.

6

" The boys called me a sucker
And a son-of-a-gun to boot.
I said to myself, " O Johnnie,
It is time for you to scoot."
I stole a canoe and started
Upon my weary way,
And now I have got home again,
But nary a cent of pay.

7

" Now all young men take this advice:
If e'er you wish to roam,
Be sure and kiss your mothers
Before you leave your home.
You had better work upon a farm
For half a dollar a day
Than to drive saw-logs on the Plover,
And you'll never get your pay. "