The Columbia herald. [volume] (Columbia, Tenn.) 1850-1873, 1873-11-07
OLD FARMER BROWN.
BY EUGENE ]. HALL.


From the barvest-feld, old Farmer Brown cam
home with look of care;
He threw his hat on the floor, and sat down in b
old splint- -bottomed chair;
| He wiped the sweat from his dripping brow, an
pulled ont his old jack-knife;
He whitfield away to himself awhile, and called 4
| his little wife.
From her quaint and tidy Kitchen she came througl
With her sleeves pinned up TO her shoulders art
| her skirt pinned mp before.
She looked faded. wrinkled and worn as the fold
| Of her gingham gown,
When she saw the haggard and hopeless look o1
! the face of Farmer Brown.
| Then down in her rocEing-cha1r she sank, in sor
| of q helpless way,
| Nor spoke one word, but listened and looked t.
| hear what he might say.
Hannah I'm sick alvin here, and a-workin' from
| spring to fall,
Here we have worked together Tor forty years, like
An that old mortgage amt lifted yet that owe to
That Judgment note o. Deacon Dunn's will soon be
tallin' due,
An where the moneys comm from, why, can t
tell, nor you.
I'm kept in sech worry an fret by all O. these sort
o things,
That have to sell the stuff that raise right off fer
what it brings. HE
1t costs so much for my taxes now, an to keep The
That haven't no chance to make cent, an that is
what's to pay.
Hannah, we've both on us grown old, an our Chi
There is no one now that is left at home for us to
depend upon.
amt strong as used to be, nor as able to work,
know;
But I've got to set them matters square, and the
farm IL have to go.
"Half O. the world lives idle, with plenty to eat an
wear,
An the ones who work the hardest have often the
least to spare.
The farmers work till their forms are bent an their
hands are hard an brown;
The workmen delve in the dust an smoke O. the
workshops in the town;
The sturdy sailors bring to our shores the wealth
o. foreign lands
An the other half o. the world subsists by the work
o. these hardened hands.
An this is O. the reasons why can't pay what I
While you anil are a-gettin' old, and the farm II
have to 60.
"rve worked in the woods in the winter-time, I've
plowed an sowed in the spring,
I've hoed and dug through summer an fail. an l
haven't made thing.
Sometimes lie awake all night, an worry an fuss
an fret,
An never single wink O. sleep nor a DIT o rest
think o our grown-up children, an the life they've
They've got to hoe the same hard row as you an
have done.
think O. the politicians, an the way they rob an
An the more think o. farnin' the poorer it makes
me feel,
The SPECTATORS buy up cheese, butter, our
An they sell 'em agin for moren twice as much
they had to pay.
They bleed in transportation, they fleece us
They cheat us on our provisions an they very
clothes We wear.
They live in their lofty houses, on the best that can
be found,
Their wives wear dazzlin' diamonds, an their chill
dren loaf around;
IN the summer they 60 to the seashOre an the
springs to make show,
An that is the way butter an cheese, an orr
corn an 'taters go. |
" We work in the sun all summer, raise turnips an
corn shares,
That the railroads an politicians may cheat an
They Garry the reins O. power, and will till we fl
our graves
They rule an ruin the markets. an We are pack o
What's to be done2 God only knows. I've failed
In irwin, to lay eetle by to ease my declnin' days
I never have been a shiftless man; I've hggered,
I've worked an tried,
While the old farms been a runnln down since the
day that father died.
I've borrowed money to pay my debts, an I've |
watched the interest grow;
Till it fairly got the stay o. me, and the farm II
have to 60
Then the little wife of Farmer Brown stood up upon
And she looked at him in a kind of way that she
never had before.
The burrows fed from her shriveed cheeks, and her
face grew all aglow:
= I never will sign the deed, John7 and the farm
shall never go.
There's jest one thing to be done, you an
are born:
you must join the Grange an vote, John. if you
would sell your corn.
Iope an prayer are good, John. for the man who
digs an delves,
,ut heaven will never help US, John, unless we help
ourselves.
amt as clipper, an smart an spry, nor strong
as used to be,
tut I've got a heap O. spunk, John when it's started
up in me-"
ver the old mans furrowed face the tears began to
flow, .
e never had felt more strong and proud since
their wedding long ago;
golden gleam of heavenly hope illumined his
souls despair,
nd kneeiing down on the time-worn floor, both
bowed their heads in PRAYER.