Ezekiel Simkin’s Catterlogs

“It hain’t no use,” Ezekiel said,

“Thet boy hez got wheels in his head;

He won’t dew chores nur git the cows,

Nur fetch the wood inter the house;

He’s gin up fishin’ in “The Bogs”,

An’ reads an’ studys catterlogs.

It hain’t no use,” Exekiel said,

“Thet boy hez got wheels in his head.”

Ezekiel Simkins wuz a lad

Who wuzzn’t fashuned like his dad.

He might hev hed wheels in his head,

Percisely ez his dad hed said;

But they wuz different by far,

From them persessed by his ol’ pa.

Altho’ Zeke junior’s wheels wuz slow,

Ezekiel senior’s did not go;

Ezekiel junior’s wheels wuz ‘iled,

But ‘Zekeil senior’s they wuz sp’iled,

Becuz fur forty years he’d been

Percisely where he started in.

He kep’ on hayin’ in “The Bogs”,

While ‘Zekiel read his catalogs.

One day Ezekiel shocked his dad

An’ stunned his neighbors quite ez bad,

By askin’ fur the cash tur buy

A wheel an’ start an agency.

“Out on The Corners, pa,” says he,

“They’re passin’ one an’ two an’ three;

I want tur start a shop an’ so

I want a wheel tur come an’ go.”

His pa he couldn’t see the p’int,

An’ said his min’ wuz out uv j’int;

“He’d better hayit in “The Bogs”,

An’ burn his books an’ catterlogs.”

Ezekiel junior couldn’t see

The p’int in his dad’s proffercy;

So, unbeknown tur his stern pa,

He courted up his gran’ mama,

Who let him have, with simple grace,

Enough tur start his cycle place.

An’ on The Corners soon they see

“Ezekiel Simkin’s Agency”.

An’ while his dad mowed in The Bogs,

Ezekiel read his catterlogs.

It is the custom, I’ll admit,

Tur stretch these ballad yarn a bit;

But I will draw it rail an’ say,

Ezekiel Simkin’s rich turday.

He’s paid his father’s mortgage off,

He’s cured his sister’s hackin’ cough.

His mother, on the hill alone,

Now sleeps beneath a costly stone.

An’ church an’ town, the poor an’ meek,

All bless the hones’ name uv Zeke.

An’ all becuz he lef’ The Bogs,

An’ read an’ studied catterlogs.

Feb. 14, 1897

Pub. in B. Courier,

Oct. 31, ‘97