Down On the Farm

How fine to be upon the farm

     On lazy summer days like these

And listen to the early birds

     That sing and caper in the trees.

How fine to hear the rooster crow

     And hail the purple, breaking day;

How fine to be a dream and free

     From city thoughts and things away!

To idly watch the busy bee

     Go buzzing on from flower to flower;

To lie within the hammock’s folds

     And dream away the summer hour.

O, life is fine upon the farm,

     Away from puffs and paint and silk,

Out where they wear they’re own fair hair,

     Out with the butter, eggs and milk!

How fine to be upon the farm

     And watch the things unfold and grow;

To hear the “Bob Whites’” morning call,

     And see the farmer rake and mow.

I know of nothing half so fine,

     Of naught wherein such pleasures lurk

As ‘tis to smoke and dream and joke,

     And watch the other fellows work!

July 2, 1910

Monday