Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1880-09-17

From poem with the above title, by Henry s. Good
ale, in Harper's Magazine for october.l
Nsow tell yew, e nn' what farmin' pays
Jest come clus hum study yer neighbOr's ways.
Look et-we wun't be pusnal-call him Black
Nofence, no critters, nothin'--drenul slackl
Huntn an hshin' while things 60 q rack;
sportin' farmers baoun t. be-a shack.
An then there's white; he's one o. yer stiddy kim;
Looks aout ahead an never runs behin';
follers his plaough, perdooces corn an taters-
He don't rest nothin' with them sPeekieaters.
Gold up er daown, he hain't no call T. worry;
They wont git red o. his'n in a hurry.
No, no, Whites keerfu Farms suthin', rally;
Wun't drive hoss T. death he hopes sell ye,
But drives bargain pooty keen, tell ye.
GreenI,wQnder ef ye know watts an' Green7
He works like blAzes, fur ez hev seen;
No better farm m his'n in Saughconic,
Or savin'er wife from Kersnop to Hustonic;
Sober 8 deacon on a sabba'.day-
Can't tell rye from JamAiker so they say;
stays to his hum; lives low. wat hindera naow,
Iliet Green can't git livin at the plaough2
Waa we've he'd dealin's some; III tell ye then
No Judgment, moren a settin' Brahmar hen,
An thets the nub ont. III ye plan ez he does,
Yer poor ez Lsz'rus wuL-whoever he wuz.
Don't know Brown much, mean ter-grumpy fcl
leri
All his hard cider couldn't make him meller;
But they du say he's sayin up at las'
Supplyin' village folks with gardn sass.
He'd ortoT lay some by, for you may bet
He don't fool much ont OF T. pay a debt
Owes me three shiln. Wa'al, it amt greet.
Les look at Grey. wust thing baout Grey is-bools
Grey reads { much, n keers T. much fer looks;
Believes in putin picturs up in haouses,
An puts on airs, an dassn't patched traowses.
Rf 'twan't fer money left him, goodness knows
He might be now a-wearin p0or-'aouse co'es.
Wa'al, not thet I've got anything agin i'm,
Only do say they amt nothin' IN i'm;
No dicker in i'm sartin'-not hOoter;
Can't swap and make a cent-a cent o. pooter.
Sech farmers skurcely make the salt they're eatin;
They pear t. think tibet hagglin's bad cheatin'.
Mebby it is; ef that's the way fgger,
wed ciphered aOut aOur Jail little bigger.
High-sheriG Root he'd fist rejice to do it,
Appint more depooties, and put US thru it.
Ha waal, Vaal, it takes all tin's O. folks. sbsout
I make warld. I've guessed the reason aout.
Time wuz wished some on em hadn't come
Till arter was horned an dead yum.
He see, these puzLlin' pfnts understAn'
Sence they made ch'ice o. me for Selectman.
Cant all on us be ruler's-sakes alive!
'1wunt work { hev al kin g-beeH in a hive.
Dung 'em and cultivate 'em ez ye will,
The's alluz some small taters in hill,
An pint o. fact, yer small pater men
viii kin o. work t tn bottom Nv the ben.
We worked ten year much like we did afore.
We got family not by no means small,
An crops an barns grew fatter every fall.
The widder lef us-kin' o. sudden shock;
She let poor Hannah all her Harlem stock.
II went up { one-ten an then solit
One.thirty seneca fool didn't hol it.
Them Workers come in thick, n how Ian riz
They air some good, tell ye wut it is
Rich sill t sech chaps amt no consequence,
Ner amt clean crops, ner amt nine-rail ftnce.
Wut uckles them is tfaouts an shutin' lots,
Nice air, red claoudB an awful slightly spots;
Yer poorest pastur' hill where wind is hash
More'n likely is the one tibet takes their cash.
But now them days come on wut teched IN pride:
Hammer got of the hooks an up an died
Thet wuz duTn hard blow. jes clean lost
The Fmartest help ever come Rcrost;
/ VOW thought I'd ruther 'twould ha ben
My twenty head o. fattin steer. But then,
Shed got the young uns pooty well along;
1he haouse-work want a-pressin' quite sstrong;
Aour Jane could cook for men and wait upon 'em,
N Silas hoe his row with any on 'em;
Mjght ha' ben wuss but this ere loss ye see,
Wuz suthin more an money out to me.
sot gr'et store by her; it's kim o. queer,
My farm-vork KEEP some packard all that year;
l foun' too, long afore the grave was sodded,
Jane couldn't make sech puddin's as her ma did
Yis, more'n three months took like all natur';
But twant no use, knew thet soon or later
I'd got to make the best ont 1 did SO,
An merried Lyddy Runnels, eE ye know.
She amt like Hammer wuZ, but hez good pfnts
An does her work up slick, but can't break jints
An stop up leaks; n so the farm don't pay
Not nigh so strong ez it did in Hammers day.
T. show ye, naOw, she's he'd some posies come
An wastes her valable time a-tendin' EN-.
Eaow blows thet don't bring fruit, T. my idee,
Air wuthless, even il ye git 'em free,
An SO tell her; don't do any good
Shed craoNd my onions with EN- ef she could;
haint daoubt she choose posy bed
Afore patch o. solid cabbage-head.
Wuet on it is, my gals Parn arter her
Can't go T. meetin', m can't hardly stir,
without admirin' SuthiH', declare,
That amt no airthly 'caount Z eat or wear.
Sech conducs sinful, N thets wut say:
Live clus, n lay by fer a rainy day.
Yis, brother farmers, it's the good oil way;
workin' an sayin' tibet makes farmin pay.