TWO Sermons, Sunday school between, Three sandy miles of going— That's what we youngsters had to face To make a Sunday showing; When home we got nobody cared If they was saint or sinner, Our only hope was good dried beef A-cooked in cream for dinner. We got so hot a-driving back We all was near to fainting; The sand scaled off the wheels like paint From off a job of painting; And every time the harness squeaked We felt our waists grow thinner— Our only hope, as I've jest said, Was creamed dried beef for dinner. We got so cold a-driving back The load was near to freezing, And part of us a-coughed and hacked Awhile the rest was wheezing; And once we thought we'd have to send For Doc "Lobelia" Skinner To thaw us out, but we was cured Before we'd finished dinner. I've never seen such handsome beef, No Sir; nor any sweeter, A-cured in our old wooden bowl With brine and saltedpeter; It spruced the outer man right up And satisfied the inner— That creamed dried beef, that good dried beef We had for Sunday dinner. We hewed if off before we went And put some water to it, And jest the minute we got home The stove begun to stew it; Then in we stirred the sun-kist cream That made the dish a winner— I Vow! I'd go to meeting now To get dried beef for dinner. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CRANES OF IBYCUS by EMMA LAZARUS TO A BLUEBELL by EMILY JANE BRONTE FIRST BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 11 by THOMAS CAMPION EACH IN HIS OWN TONGUE by WILLIAM HERBERT CARRUTH HUGH SELWYN MAUBERLEY: 13. ENVOI, 1919 by EZRA POUND SONG OF THE BANNER AT DAY-BREAK by WALT WHITMAN |