When Trouble Comes Round

When trouble knocks hard on the kitchen door

I don’t git up an’ answer no more;

I set right still till his han’s git sore.

Years ago when I wuz young an’ thin

I uster git up an’ ask him in,

An’ listen to all the yarns he’d spin.

An’ I’d think all day an’ I’d dream all night

Till I didn’t hev no appetite,

An' I couldn’t work an’ I couldn’t fight.

Then I woke one day with an awful start

With a change uv head and a change uv heart,

An’ I laid fur trouble to play my part.

When he came along an’ he saw my eye

He turned way out an’ he passed me by

An’ I held my head up bold an high.

So now when he knocks at my kitchen door

I git my club an’ I cross the floor

But trouble don’t hang aroun’ no more.

March 29, 1912