Classic Poem

Sich a round o' pleasure—goin' left an' right,
Daytime is a picnic—dancin' ever' night!
Never wuz so happy—valley, plain, or hill,
Forty dozen weddin's, and the women willin' still!

Growled about the weather when the summer sun
Wilted all the cornblades—made the toilers run!
But look at what it brought us! harvests broad an' high,
An' halleluias goin' in music to the sky.

Sich a round o' pleasure!—when the fiddles play
Wouldn't swap the winter fer the bloom o' May!
Backlog in the chimney—red sparks on the fly;
Cane-juice never sweeter, an' bright bead on the rye!

Ain't this world a great one? Joy jest layin' round,
Twinklin' in the frost-flakes kiverin' all the ground;
Never wuz so happy—valley, plain, or hill,
Forty dozen weddin's, an the women willin' still!