When Father Spears Fur Eels

                                                             

                                                                                                     John Hall Cone

When pork an’ lamb, an’ steak an’ ham

     An’ other meats run short,

An’ there ain’t nothin’ in the house

     Tur eat uv any sort

Then dad will git his eel spear out,

     Me taggin’ at his heels,

An’ go way down upon the crick

     An’ poke an’ jab fur eels.

He drops his basket on the ice

     An’ cuts a big round hole,

Then shoves his great, big eel spear in,

     Hitched to a twelve-foot pole,

An’ then he jabs it in the mud,

     Sometimes not more than twice,

An’ out will come a two foot eel

     A-squirmin’ on the ice.

The pa will jab an’ poke an’ jab,

     An’ walk around the hole,

A smile upon his grizzled face,

     Contentment in his soul.

An’ by an’ by he’ll give a yank,

     Whenever one he feels,

Until he’s filled his basket full

     Uv frozen coated eels.

An’ father ays he pities them

     As can’t go out an’ spear

A meal uv vittles threw the ice

     Like we can do right here.

Pa seems contented with his lot,

     An’ never wants fur meals;

‘Cuz when he ain’t a-helpin’ ma

     He’s out a-spearin’ eels.

Feb. 14, 1902