When the Summer Boarders Come

                                  I

O, the summer season’s comin’, you kin feel it in the breeze,

     You kin see it in the medders where they slope towards the sun;

You kin hear it if you listen in the whispers of the trees,

     You kin see it in the mornin’ fore the day has scarce begun.

You kin see it in the kitchen, which is in an awful mess,

You kin see it in the parlor an’ each sleepin’ room I vum;

You kin tell by ma’s expression, an’ her actions, more or less,

     ‘Cuz she wants to be all ready when the summer boarders come.

                                  II

I hev been a-beatin’ carpets till I’m all beat out an’ sore,

     I hev worked the ol’ pump handle till the well is all but dry;

I hev scrubbed an’ rubbed an’ painted till I can’t rub any more,

     An’ my back is simply busted – I could jest lay down an’ die.

Ma hez kept me on the hustle ev’ry day from morn till night,

She has jest been on the rampage an’ hez made the labor hum;

She says that she’s a gonter have the farm house set aright,

An’ have ev’rything in order fore the summer boarders come.

                                  III

When the weary day is ended I am so beat out an’ sore,

     I am so low in spirits with the labor of the day,

That I wish there wasn’t ever summer boarders anymore,

     An’ that people in the city would be kind enough to stay.

Ma an’ me will take the attic o’er the low an’ stuffy ell,

     ‘Cuz they want the other bedrooms, ev’ry blessed one I swum;

Ev’rything is topsy turvey, an’ will be so quite a spell,

     Least till ev’rything is settled an’ the summer boarders come.

                                  IV

Then I kinder git to thinkin’ uv the city awful hot,

     Uv the houses close together an’ the pavement hard an’ hot,

Where they ain’t much place for playin’ ceptin’ in the dusty street,

     While I’ve got more’n twenty acres in my very smallest lot.

An’ I think about the river with its windin’ stretch uv blue,

     Where the boys kin go in swimmin’ or fish off the shady shore,

Of the flower-sprinkled pastures for the girls to ramble through,

     An’ I do not seem to harbor selfish feelin’s anymore.

                                  V

There’s the mother with the baby who wuz boardin’ here last year,

     Golden headed little feller, cute ez any butterball,

They hev writ to come this summer, think it’s mighty pleasant here,

     An’ the family with the pony, and the phaeton an’ all.

There’s the girl who paints the pictures of the horses, cows an’ sheep,

     An’ the pretty music teacher who jest makes the organ hum;

O. it’s mighty interestin’, feller hardly wants to sleep

     When the outin’ season opens, an’ the summer boarders come.

                                  VI

Let ’em come, they need the country, an’ the country needs ‘em too,

     We’ve got room for all creation in the woods an’ in the stream;

Let ‘em wander in the medders like the birds uv heaven do,

     An’ drink the joys uv natur’ with the butter an’ the cream.

O, I know that I’d be lonesome if the baby wasn’t here,

     If the artist wasn’t paintin’, and the teacher didn’t hum;

An’ I know we’ll hev a brighter an’ more cheery atmosphere

     When the house is all in order an’ the summer boarders come.

May 27, 1910