Ashtabula weekly telegraph. [volume] (Ashtabula, Ohio) 1853-1873, 1873-05-31

1he famous ballad Of "Uarby and joan
having been called for by a learned pundit,
and others, we present copy, furnished from
an old Almanac of 1919:
When Darby saw the setting sun,
He swung bis scythe and home he run,
Sa, down, drank off his quart and said:
MY work is dome III go TO bed"
My work is done ~ rctoried Joan.
"My work is doner your constant tone;
But helpless woman nper can say
Her work is done till Judgment Day;
You men can sleep all night but, we
Must toll. Whose faultT quoth lie.
~ know your meaning" Joan replied.
"But, sir, Ny tongue shall not be tied,
| will 20 on, and let you know
What work poor women have to do;
First, in the morning, though we feel
As sick rs drunkalds when they reel
Yes, feel such puns in back or head
AS would cOntne you men To bed
We ply tie urush, we WELD the broom,
We air the beds and right the room
The cows must be milkrd-and then
We gel the breakfast ior the men.
Ere This is done. with whmpering cries
And bristly hair the children rise
These must he dressed aud dosed with rue
And f, d-and ali because of you
We next-hcre Darby scratched his head
And stole off grumbling 10 his bed;
And only said as ON be Fun--
"Zounds! woman's cack is never done"
AT early dawn, ere PLGbus rose,
Old Joan resumed her tale Of woes;
When Darby thus-"rll end the strife,
| BE YOU the man and lbe wife
| You take the scythc and NOV while
| win all your boosted care supply"
"Conte nt' quoth Joan, "give me my stint" )"
| This Darby did, and out she went
! Olu Darby rose aud sciZ' the broom
| And hiried the dirt around the room
| Which having done, he scarce knew how,
He hi, d To milk the brindle COW.
The brindle COW whisked rnund her tail
! In Darby's eyes and kicked the pail
The clown ptrplexed with grief and pain,
| Sworc he'd ne'rr try To milk again;
| When turning round, in sad amaze,
| He saw ms cottage in blaze
| For as he chanced to brush the room
| In careless haste he fired the broom.
| TJe fire al last subdued, he swOre
| 'Iue broom and he should meet no more.
Press, 10y misfortune and pcrpleXed,
! Darby prepared for breakfast next;
But what To get he scarcely knew
The bread vas spent. aud the butter too;
| Ills hands bedaubcd with paste and flour,
Old Darby aborcd iull halt AN hour;
But luckl,ss wight thou couldat not make
The bread take form Of loaf or cake.
| As every door VIDE open stood,
In push, d the SOW, III quest OF food
And, stumbling onwarus, with her Snout
O'erset the churn-lhe creOln ran out.
AS Darby turned, the SOW to beat
The slpp,ry cream ectray, d his feet;
He caught the bread trough in his fall
And down came Darby, trough and all.
The Children, wakcned by the clatter,
Start up and cry, 'Ohs what's the matter =
Old LOwler burked and tabby mewcd,
And hapltsS Darby bawled aloud
Return, my Joan, as heretofore;
Ill play the hOusewii s part no more;
Since how, hy sad experience taught,
Compared to thine my work is nnught.
lrnceiorh, rs business calls I'll take,
Content, the plough, the seyihe. the rake,
Aud ncvcrmGre transgress Tie line
Our falcs have marked, while thou art mine
Then Joan returned; as heretofore,
IN veX your honest soul no more;
Let each our proper task attend
Forgive the past, and strive to raend."