Working the Soil

(A South Bend, Ind., woman, in spading a flower bed, unearthed a rusty can containing $1145. – News Item)

We’re always glad when spade or plow

     Turns something out worth while;

A decent crop of any kind

     It always makes us smile.

For years we’ve written of the farm

     And urged young men to toil;

There’s money to be made, my son,

     In turning o’er the soil.

The ground holds treasures bright and fair,

     They everywhere abound;

There’s hidden mysteries galore

     ‘Neath every foot of ground.

But you can’t coax them out my boy

     Without a deal of toil;

In order to obtain reward

     You must turn o’er the soil.

See what this South Bend woman’s done,

     A simple flower bed

She turned a thousand dollars out,

     Does not that turn your head?

Get out your spade, get out your plow

     Don’t scorn the rustic toil;

You know not what you may unearth

     In turning o’er the soil.

Oct. 17, ‘10