A Milkman

When I’m growed up I’m gonter be a milkman, yes I be,

And drive a wagon through the streets each morn like hully gee!

It must be fun a-getting up  each morn at two or so

And drive off to the railroad yard where all the milk trains go

And get a load uf cans aboard  then rattle down the street

‘Fore folks has thought of getting up, ‘cept p’liceman on the beat.

Jeewilkes, I’d make the old horse fly, and make a lot of noise,

And be the envy every day of more’n a hundred boys.

I’d rather be a milkman than most anything I know;

The way they rattle down the street and make them horses go!

They jump from off the wagon seat, and never holler whoa,

And scale the back-yard fences like the fellers in a show.

You bet Ill be a milkman when I’m grown up big as you,

An' drive off to the railroad yard for milk each morn at two;

Then I’ll be through my hardest work when day begins to peep,

And while you’re working in the shop I’ll have a jolly sleep!

April 24, ‘99

Courier July 16, ‘99