Rural Contentment

Let them spend their good money for rods and for reels,

     For their patented gewgaws complete;

I’ll take my birch pole to the old fishin’ hole

     An’ ketch all the fish I can eat.

Let them shoot up and down in their gasoline boats,

     With a speed that is likely to kill;

I’ll take my old skiff and just let a whiff

     Blow me forward or backward at will.

Let them spend their good money for automobiles,

     And ride like the winds to their doom;

I’ll take the ol’ mare an’ jist jog along fair,

     An’ drink in the fields all abloom.

Let them live the swift pace that is lurin’ them on

     To the grave while their hearts are still young;

I’ll poke along slow an’ be sure as I go,

     That I won’t be imprisoned or hung!

May 13, ‘10