THER' ain't no use in all this strife, An' hurryin', pell-mell, right thro' life. I don't believe in goin' too fast To see what kind o' road you've passed. It ain't no mortal kind o' good, 'N' I would n't hurry ef I could. I like to jest go joggin' 'long, To limber up my soul with song; To stop awhile 'n' chat the men, 'N' drink some cider now an' then. Do' want no boss a-standin' by To see me work; I allus try To do my dooty right straight up, An' earn what fills my plate an' cup. An' ez fur boss, I'll be my own, I like to jest be let alone, To plough my strip an' tend my bees, An' do jest like I doggoned please. My head's all right, an' my heart's meller, But I'm a easy-goin' feller. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A THOUGHT SUGGESTED BY A VIEW, OF SADDLEBACK IN CUMBERLAND by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE HURRAHING IN HARVEST by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS THE WHITE MAN'S BURDEN by RUDYARD KIPLING HAUNTED HOUSES by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW CORRYMEELA by NESTA HIGGINSON SKRINE UNDERWOODS: BOOK 1: 21. REQUIEM by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON |