Ballad of Downhearted Amos Green

“There ain’t no use in tryin’ fur to make a little name;

No use a-try’n fur to gain a little wealth or fame.

The fates are all ag’in’ me, jest ez mean ez they ken be,”

Said Amos Green in Jones’s store the other day to me.

“What seems to be the matter, Ame’?” I asked him, settin’ down;

You seem to be the bluest man I’ve run acrost in town.”

“Guess yur’d be blue,” said Amos Green, “ef yur wuz in my place,”

An’ sorrer, gloom an’ deep despair jest settled on his face.

Then Amos dug his corn cob out an’ filled it up ag’in,

The furrers uv despair writ from his for’ud to his chin,

An’ when he’d got a decent draft, he slowly shook his head,

An’ with his pipe helt in his hand, hemmed and then he said:

“I jest repeat what I hev said, an’ ev’ry one uv you

Will see that I ain’t fur from right, that what I say is true.

I’ve spent the best days uv my life right here in this ol’ spot,

An’ after years uv toil an’ sweat, I say, what have I got?

“Long years ago I saved some cash intendin’ to invest

In somethin’ that would drop a aig or two into my nest;

An’ jest about thet time the world wuz wantin’ uv more speed,

An’ someone hed invented what they called the V’locepede.

They started then to build ‘em here, an’ I invested all

The cash I had. It looked all right fur owners, big an’ small.

Then ‘bout the time we got well on the wheel craze come along,

An’ stocks in V’locepede consarns warn’t wuth a tinker’s song.

“The years went on, an’ we saved up, an’ started in once more,

To build bisickles now, with more cash than we had before.

We thought we hed a dead sure thing, ez wheels wuz all the rage,

An’ folks wuz ridin’ everywhere, uv ev’ry size an’ age.

Uv curse we wuz a bit behind the city chaps, I know,

In gettin’ started, but we thought we hed a right good show

Fur makin’ money, when one day we heerd a drummer state

The autymobile hed come in an’ wheels wuz out uv date.

“We wouldn’t b’lieve it, an’ we fit a’ginst a losin’ game

Fur years to keep the bisickle ahead, but all the same

It hed to go, an’ with it went our hopes an’ all our cash;

The wheel concern uv Gungawamp, you know it all went smash.

Waal then we talked an’ talked an’ talked ‘bout mor’gingin’ the place

An’ startin’ on another line, an’ not give up the race;

We met an’ met an’ spent a year a-talkin’ pro an’ con,

An’ some said ‘yes’ an’ some said ‘no’, an’ time jest kept right on.

“Some wanted to start in an’ build them autymobile cars,

But I jest knocked that fool idee up higher than the stars;

Says I, ‘O, yes, we’ll dig an’ scrape an’ jest git started in

When ‘long will come some new idee an’ knock us out agin!’

Ding hang me ef I wuzn’t right; we’d no more’n started out

Than ‘long would come them aryplanes an’ drive us up the spout.

No sir, they ain’t no use to try, fate’s too confounded mean;

I’m gonter sit here till I die,” said poor ol’ Amos Green

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.                                       July 30, ‘09