The evening telegraph. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1864-1918, 1871-06-26
FARM BALLADS.

@Betsey and are Out" and cover the Hill
TO the POOr-house' In Bran New
Dresses.
The New York World of yesterday publishes
these amusing parodies on two of Mr.. Carle-
toms popular ballads
BETsEY AND I ARE OUT.
\ Go tend the door, there, Bridget, and mind
what you're about,
For Betsey's mothers comm, and Betsey and
are out;
I've stood the dear old lady as long as ever
can,
And the more I've tried to stan it the more
I've had to STAN
Since first we two got married and came down
here to live,
She's had no end of orders and free advice to
give;
There's nothin' hand is put to- outside of
the house or in,
But she has a say about it that's always sure
to win.
From nursin babies to cleanin', from hayin
to milkin COWS,
We've give her her way entirely, as much as
n the law allows
There's hardly child or critter, field, or
fence, or stone,
She hasn't fault to find with, or ever can
leave alone.
Perhaps might stan that much, if Betsey SO
should bid,
And let the old lady boss it the same as she
always did;
But now that her tongue has taken to waggin'
another course,
I've got to be up an doin', or look for cheap
divorce.
If but say she's a-meddlin, she tells my
wife 1 drink;
4 If ever 1 look at a woman, she gives my wife
the wink;
And dcomin' from meetin Sunday, when Betsey
was taken ill,
She said, that, for half the symptoms,
woman could file Bill
So, tend the door, there, Bridget, and keep
\ your wits about :
And tell the dear old lady that Betsey and I are
Out;
And then-in case she threatens to come some
other day
just add to the statement Bridget, that Out
we intend to stay
OVER THE ILL TO THE pooR-HoUsE.
Over the hill to the poor-house, my wife and
children dear,
We march in sad procession from out the
farmhouse here;
And all the broad green acres I've titled as
boy and man
y Are sold to the heartless stranger, beneath
the sheriff's ban.
Many good years livin' they've yielded us
and ours,
When mine was full days walkin' through
wheat and corn and fiowrs;
n For was freehold owner as far as the eve
II could see,
And never note nor mortgage on what be-
longed to me.
And then to think I'd fool il, in these my grey
| haired days!
And then to think I'd follow in strange, new
tangled ways!
1t seemed my brain was turpin' when Gree
ley's book came out,
And What He Knew of Farmin first tempted
me to doubt
thought experience lyin', and took from one
my art
Who says all men are Glars" like David, in
his heart;
And what with sub-soil ploughin', and drain
age far and wide,
My land looked like an earthquake had Just
broke out and dried.
And what with buildin' pig-pens that cost as
much as silk,
And feedin' COWS on butter to raise fresh
butter-milk;
And keepin' trust" frem wheat-crops by
sprinkled oils control,
! And plantin' sticks with broom-corn, to make
the brooms grow whole
Many thousand dollars were worse than
thrown away,
And many another thousand had in debts to
pay;
But gooseberries dead-broke me, when to
raise them tried
BY buryin'-as the Book said-my geese al
side and side.
And then behold the Sheriff to levy on it all,
When note on note, and mortgage, began like
leaves to fall;
Our very beds and beddin' he seized upoI
and took,
And the only thing he wouldn't was Mr.. Gree
leys book.
Over the hill to the poor-house we wend ou
weary way,
And never may Mr. Greeley be sad as WI
H. to-day
Not even in the moment when, givin' up the
ghost,
A He forces one last whisper, to ''d-n" th'
Boston Post.
aF44 THFe e @FT nm WEP a n -