He was a poet who wrote clever verses, And folks said he had fine poetical taste; But his father, a practical farmer, accused him Of letting the strength of his arm go to waste. He called on his sweetheart each Saturday evening, As pretty a maiden as man ever faced, And there he confirmed the old man's accusation By letting the strength of his arm go to waist. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IN MEMORY OF GENERAL GRANT by HENRY ABBEY EPISTLES ON THE CHARACTER AND CONDITION OF WOMEN: 3 by LUCY AIKEN STAGE SETTING KANSAS by BERNICE GIBBS ANDERSON WINTER IN IRELAND by CHARLES BEWLEY CIPHERS by ABBIE FARWELL BROWN |