The Russellville Democrat., 1881-05-05
DARBY ANo His YoAS.

The following old poem is niways new. 1t thorand exact age aFe unknownl When Darby saw tho setting sun. He swung his scythe and home he run, Sat down. drank of his pint. and said My work is done, I'll go 10 bed"
 My work is done" reiorted Joan; My work is done, your constant tone; But hapless woman ne'er can say My work Is done, till Judgment Day" Here Darby hem'd and racked his head To answer what his Joan had said; But ali in vain, her elack kept on; "Yes, woman's work is never done. "You men can sleep all night, but we Must toil" "Who's fault is that?' quoth he. T know your meaning" Joan replied, But sir, my tongue shall 'er be ted 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 pain through back and head As would eonfine you men 10 bed. We wield the brush and ply the broom, We air the beds and right the room; The COW must next be mixed, and then We get the breakfast for the men.
 
 And briskly air the children rise; These must be dressed and dosed with rue And fed and all because Of you. I've must"-here Darby rose and scratehe'
 his head,
 And fast retreated for the bed; And grumbling this as on he run: tZoundsl womans clack is never done At early dawn, ere PhmbuS rose, ma Ioop rpgUrrne1 her falp of woes. Said Darby Thus I'll end the strife; Be you the man and the wife. Take you the scythe and now, while l Will all your boasted cares supply Content" quoth Joan. give me my stint. This Darby did and out she went. old Darby rosp and seized the broom And whirled the dirt around the room Then, having done, he scarce knew how, He hied to milk the brndle COW. The brindle COW did whisk her tail In Darby's eyes, and kick the pail; The clown, perpleXed with grief and pam, Swore he'd ne'er try to milk again. Then. 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 length scbdued, 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. With hands bedaubed in paste and flour, Old Darby labOred full an hour, But, luckless wight, he could 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 onward, with her snout Der set the churn-the cream ran out. As Darby turned the SOW to beat, The slippery cream betrayed his feet; He caught the bread-trough in hIs fall And down came Darby, trough and all The children, wakened by the chatter, Start up and cry: Law, what's the natter old fowler parked and Tabby meowed And hspless Darby bawled aloud Return, my Joan, as heretofore, I'll play the housewife's part no more, Since now my sad experience taught, Compared with thine my work IS naught. Henceforth as business calls I'll take, Content, the scythe, the blow, the rake, And neyermore transgress the line Then, Joan, return as heretofore, I'll vex thine honest soul no more; Let each his proper task attend Forgive the past and strive to mend.