The woods

by Douglas Malloch

SETTIN’ IN THE SUN

I reckon the party who sets on a throne

Has a perfectly miser’ble time;

There always is someone a-pickin’ a bone

With a king or a monarch sublime.

Some calculate maybe that bein’ a king

Is a job that is gen’ally fun—

Well, well, it may be,

But the best thing, to me,

Is jest settin’ right here in the sun.

I reckon the party who sets in the chair,

In the President’s chair, an’ all that,

Must tote on his person consider’ble care

An’ a passel of woe in his hat.

Some calculate maybe it’s fun to be boss

Or even for office to run—

Well, that may be so,

But the best thing I know

Is jest settin’ right here in the sun.

I reckon the party who sets up on high

He may wish for a moment that’s calm.

It’s awful to set there an’ find by-an’-by

That you’ve done gone an’ set on a bomb.

I calculate, if they should blow up a king,

In spite of the good he has done,

Nary king he will be;

But me, as for me,

I’ll be settin’ right here in the sun.