Cleveland County herald., 1921-04-28
THE WOODS
 ----- By DOUGLAS MALLOCH
RAIN.

w dl6I ulll6S away This old stem of mine can tell Fifty furlongs from well
 Where it ought to lay.
 An I'll tell you why: This old stem an me has tramped, Waded, swum an drove an camped,
 Never gittin dry, Forty Winters, forty Springs; Do you wonder thet she sings
 When she smells the water? If you fellahs really knew All that laig an me went through
 Guess you'd think she oughter. You ain't never had the luck
 Swampin in the snow; None of you ain't never stuck To your boot-tops in the muck
 When it's ten below.
 There ain't none of you Ever drove the Chippeway In the early days of May
 When a norther blew, When the river water froze In your boots an in your clo'es-
 Freezin, thawin', freezin' If this stem of mine finds out When there's water round about,
 Surely there's reason. All DSSlutS, lH6T6 QulIe HnG
 Of such signs of rain; There is many another sign 'Ceptin' this old stem of mine
 Thet is just as plain.
 There is bunions yet Fer corn CT bunion is Most as good as rheumatiz
 Prophesyin' wet When you see a cat eat grass, When you see a small-mouth bass Sendin up a bubble, When you hear a rain-crow caw- It is simply Natures law
 Indieatin' trouble. Rainin', is it? So it seems;
 It's a nasty night. Yonder how the street lamp gleamsl- Like the light you see in dreams, Soft an far an white,
 Like the light you see When you let life's half-hiteh slip, When you kind of lose your grip On the things thet be. An l sometimes think the shore Thet we all are headin' for
 Looks so far an ghostly Cause we're lookin' Qike tonight We are lookin' at the nght)
 Through a fog-bank mostly. How the asphalt pavements shinei Almost lookin' clean. Ev'ry lamp post makes a line Like the shadow of a pine
 On a snowy scene.
 In the gutter nigh Little ripples curl an comb, Little dirty rivers foam, In an hour to die They are like the stream of life, Full of work an play an strife, Proud with splash an splutter. Each believes himself a flood Most of us is only mud Runnin' down a gutter. Rainin'? Sure enough it is. But 1t ain't the goods; Doesn't git right down to biz Like the whirling raindrops whis Up there in the woods It's city shower, Like the other kinds of stuff Tn the city. mostly bluff, Lastin fer an hoar. Up there. when it rains. it rains, F4llin' rivers, fioodin' plains Dowp. the mountains washin'. Up there when rain we git, When we're really through with it. Things are jest a-sloshin'. Fer a rainsterm in the brush Is the wettest thing, Ground beneath sou soft as rnush An around you all hush, Not bird to sing
 Jest the droppin slow Of the raindrops on the leaves, Spillin' from a billion caves, On the earth below; Jest a blanket in the mire, Jest a smudgy kind of fire, Weak an slow an smoky; Breakfast-pancakes simply lead; Dinner-wet an soggy bread; Supper-biscuits soaky. Rainin', is 1t? So it is.
 Glad I'm high and dry When a man has rheumatiz In this old left stem of his Keep inside, say I.
 Now this city stuff Amt like woods rain near as wet. Amt like woods rain is, an yet It is wet enough. Course the woods rain is the best It is dampest, healthiest,
 Better altogether; But I guess I'll stay inside Tryin' to be satisfied
 With this city weather
 (Copyright)