A BOY’S THOUGHTS

Pa told me I would have to hoe

   That blamed old patch of corn again;

“Gee, but the sky is growin’ dark,

   I only hope it’s goin’ to rain.”

I’ve got to do as father says,

   I s’pose, at least so people say;

“O gracious me! But don’t the Crick

   Look smooth an’ temptin’ like today?”

I’ve got two rows hoed, anyway,

   I guess there’s thirty left, or so,

“If I should jes’ go take a swim

   I don’t b’lieve pa would ever know.”

That water felt most awful good,

   I itched so up and down my back;

“I bet the fish would bite today, –

   Hooray, the sky is growin’ black!”

Eight rows are done, from thirty two,   

That leaves as much as twenty four;

“O goody-good, I felt some rain,

   I left my fish pole on the shore.”

Can’t hoe this corn out in the rain,

     The dirt is muddy now, like clay;

“Good bye old hoe, I’m off to fish,

     Good bye old corn patch for today!”

Aug. 8, 1904