The “Life Of Hood”

John Hood one night said to his wife,

“I b’lieve I’ll try’n write up my life.

‘Twould be quite interestin’ too,

Some uv them times thet I’ve b’en through.”

“Write up your life?” the good wife said,

“Why goodness me you’ve lost your head.”

But down he sat with pen and ink,

And hemmed and scratched and tried to think.

“John Hood wus born October eight,

In what is called the nutmeg state,

In eighteen hundred, twenty nine,

An' purty nigh the York State line.”

“So far so good; I say my dear,

Don’t say yeou think I ain’t all here.

I’ve started well, but – arter all,

Not one event kin I recall.”

Thus on he rocked and scratched his head,

But all those “times” of his had fled.

“Thet pesky show I helped to town

Ain’t hardly wuth a jottin’ down;

Then I fell off thet load uv hay,

But sech things happen ev’ry day.

Then there’s the time when I could vote,

But thet ain’t much,” so then he wrote:

“John Hood wus wed to Mary Lee

March sixteen, in forty three.”

And this was all the good man could

Think to write in his “Life of Hood”.

“It’s jes the way,” the farmer said;

“Yeour born, married, and then you’re dead.

That makes the life uv common men,

But doesn’t show what might hev b’en.”

July 13, ‘91

Pub. in

  Camb. Press