The Philosophy of Jed Bascom

                                              by Joe Cone

We wazn’t born to be alike,

      We ain’t alike, not we;

Look round the world an’ you won’t strike

      Another one like me.

Ef you wuz born to be like me,

      An’ me like you, I swum,

The Lord would hed no use, you see,

      To ever made but one.

                              - Gungawamp Kitchen Song

He used to set upon the fence an’ f’’losserfise each day,

The ol’ rail fence thet stood between him an’ the broad highway.

While other men wuz workin’ hard beneath the sultry skies

Jed Bascom he would set upon the fence and f’losserfise.

He wuzzn’t satisfied the way the universe wuz run;

He thought they’d orter be a change in stars an’ moon an’ sun.

He thought the seasons wuz askew, they wuzn’t planned out wise;

He saw how wrong the whole thing wuz, when he would f’’losserfise.

He figgered if the sun would shine at night instid uv day,

The rain would do more good an’ we would git a lot more hay;

If winter’d come in summertime when ‘twas blowin’ hot,

An’ summer’d come in wintertime he said. “ez like ez not

‘Twould be good weather all the year, a kind uv June an’ May,

An’ we could sow an’ hoe an’ reap an’ farm it ev’ry day.”

All this Joe Bascom figgered out beneath the summer skies

Upon his rickety ol’ fence where he would f’’losserfise.

He said they shouldn’t be no tax fur anyone to pay;

Thet folks would git along jest twice ez good the other way.

It took jest all thet he could scrape to pay his tax each year,

An’ kept him in the anxious seat uv poverty an’ fear.

He said he hed a better plan fur runnin’ town an’ state;

Had got it all in black an’ white, but he wuz goin’ to wait

Until he’d got in politics, some office reckernized,

Afore he’d give out to the world jest what he’d f’’losserfised.

Jed Bascom’s farm grew up to weeds an’ fences tumbled down,

The mortgage debt increased each year, the house grew bare an’ brown;

His cattle died off one by one, he grew more stooped an’ gray,

But still he set upon the fence an’ f’’losserfised each day.

“Why man,” said he, “ef I would go an’ work the hull-day long,

How could I f’’losserfise? I’d git the whole durn system wrong;

No sir, I’ve got to set right here an’ smoke an’ close my eyes,

An’ see the things what orter be; I’ve got to f’’losserfise.”

Gabe Perkins drove along one day and Jed wuz settin’ there;

Gabe hitched his hoss, an’ opened with a most impressive air.

Says he to Jed, “I’ve come around to talk philosophy;

You’ve got some up your sleeve,” says he, “by jinks an’ so hev I.

You’ve sot around here all your life, a-sayin’ things wuz wrong;

You wouldn’t do a blessed thing to help yourself along;

Instid uv pushin’ on the wheel you’ve sot an’ sot an’ sot,

An’ now you’re old an’ poorer’n mush, your farm has gone to pot.

You’ve be’n dissatisfied with all the things the Lord hez ever done,

Yit you, with all your f’’losserfy, you hain’t improved them none.

You’ve found a mighty lot uv fault, but not an oversight to eat;

You’ve worked your mind a bit perhaps, but not your hands or feet.

Now, look at me, I ain’t in love with ev’rything that’s done,

But I ain’t found no fault at all with moon nor stars nor sun;

I’ve dug an’ worked an’ hed some faith in God’s eternal plan,

An’ look at me, a satisfied an’ well to do old man.

Jed smoked an’ shet one eye an’ looked up in the changin’ skies,

An’ never said a single word, jest seemed to f’’losserfise;

Bimeby he laid his pipe aside, an’ turned to Gabe an’ said;

“Perhaps I ain’t done any work exceptin’ with my head,

Perhaps the farm is all run down, perhaps I’m ol’ an’ gray,

Mebbie I ain’t pushed the wheel like thunder ev’ry day;

I ain’t rolled up no bank account, ain’t got no title clear,

But I hev jest enjoyed myself a-settin’ right out here.

I ain’t got nary chick nur child, no one to labor fur,

So why should I slave all the time an’ try to make a stir?

I’ve lived a peaceful life out here, I’ve studied earth an’ skies,

An’ all I’ve asked is be allowed to set an’ f’’losserfise.

I’ve got a scheme that beats the way the world is run today,

But what it is I ain’t prepared jest now to fully say.

Your f’losserfy’s all right fur you, nobody here denies;

An’ mine’s all right fur me, I guess, I’m goin’ tur f’’losserfise.

The world wurn’t made fur you nur me,

      No matter what we say;

They’s others with a right to be

      Upon the great highway.

It takes all kinds to git along

      The sages useter tell;

So let us hev a dance an’ song,

      An’ wish our neighbor well.

June 28, ‘09