Hay Fever

“Dear Father – I cannot come home

     As usual this year;

I’ve got hay fever, doctor says,

     And got it bad, I fear.

The sight of grass, or smell of hay,

     Affects me through and through;

Will come to hunt in early fall,

     Eschew! Eschew! Eschew!”

“Dear Son – I’m sorry you ain’t well,

     We need yew purty bad;

The hay is ready tew be cut,

     The most we ever had.

Can’t send your extra money now,

     Hev got tur hire, yew see,

Another man tur take yewr place,

     Ho ho! Ha ha! He he!

Sept. 6, 1900