The Columbian. [volume] (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1866-1910, 1870-11-04

The famous ballad of "Darby and Joan" ha'
ing been called for by a learned pundit and otl
printed in Notes and Quefies," and also In Di
Vid foung's Almanac OF 1873;
DARBY AND JOAN.
When Darby saw the setting sun,
He swung his scythe and home he run,
Sat down, drank off his quart, and said,
"My work is done, I'll go to bed"
my work is done !" retorted Joan,
"'My work is done your constant tone;
But helpless woman ne'er can say
Her work is done, TIL Judgment Day.
You men can sleep at night but we
Must toll" "Whose fault is that ?" quoth he.
II know our meaning" Joan replied,
But, sir, my tongue shall not be tied
l Will go on. and let you know
What work we women have to do:
First, in the morning, though we feel
AS sick as drunkards, when they reel
Yes feel such pains in back or head
AS would contine you men to bed
We ply the brush, we WELD the BROOM
We air the beds and right the room;
The cows must next be milked--and then
We get the breakfast for the men,
Ere this is DONE with whimpering cries
And bristly hair the children rise;
These must be dressed and dosed with rue,
And fed-and all because OF you.
We next'-here Darby scratched his head,
And stole Off grumbling to his bed
And only said, as on he run,
POUNDS woman's cack is never DONE"
AT early dawn, ere Phpous rose,
Old Joan resumed her tale of woes;
When Darby thus-"I'll end the strife
Be you the man and the wife;
Take you the scythe and NOV, while
VIII all your boasted cares supply"
Content" quoth Joan, "give me my stint"
This Darby did, and out she went
Old Darby rose and seized the broom,
And whirled the dirt about the room;
Which having done, he scarce knew how,
He hied TO milk the brindled COW.
The brndled COW whisked round her tail
In Darby's eyes, and kicked the pail;
The clown, perplexed with grief and pain,
Swore he'd neer try to milk again.
When turning round, in sad amaze,
He saw his cottage in blaze
For as he chanced to brush the room
In careless haste, he fired the broom,
The fire at last subdued, he swore
The broom and he should meet no more.
Pressed by misfortune and perplexed,
Darby prepared for breakfast next
But what to get he scarcely knew
The bread was spent, the butter, too.
His hands bedaubed with paste and flour.
Old Darby labored full an hour;
But, luckless wight! thou coulds't not make
The bread take form of loaf or cake.
AS every door wide open stood,
In pushed the SOW in quest of food
And stumbling onwards with her snout
O'erset the churn-the milk ran out,
As Darby turned. the sow TO beat,
The slipp'ry cream betrayed his feet;
He caught the bread trough in his fall,
And down came Darby, trough, and all.
The children, wakened by the clatter,
Start up and cry, "Oh what's the matter ?"
Old Jowler barked and tabby mewed,
And hapless Darby bawled aloud,
Return. my Joan, as heretofore,
I'll play the housewives part no more;
Since now, by sad experience taught,
Compared to thine. my work is naught,
Henceforth, as business calls Illtake
Content, the plough, the scythe, the rake,
And never more trangress the line
| Our fates have marked, while thou art mine.
| Then Joan, return as heretofore,
| I'll vex your honest soul no more;
Let each our proper task attend
Forgive the past, and strive to mend"