ONLY HELD HIS OWN
Now there’s Hezekiall Adams—nicest man you
ever saw!
Never had a row with no one; never once got
into law;
Always worked like thunderation, but to save
his blessed life,
Never seemed to get forehanded—and I’ve laid
it to his wife,
For she always kept him meechin’; calls him
down with sour tone,
Till the critter hasn’t gumption for to say his
soul’s his own.
T’other day
Happened to ride along his way;
Heseki’,
Like a gingham rag hung out to dry,
Peak-ed and pale,
Lopped on the gate ’cross the upper rail.
“Howdy!” says I,
“Blamed if I know,” says Heseki’.
“Don’t feel sick,
But marm’s kept my back on a big hot brick
Till I can’t tell
Whuther I’m ailin’ or whuther I’m well.”
“Think,” says I,
“It’s too early to hoe when the ground’s so dry?”
Says he, “’Bout all
I’m sartin’ of is, I shall dig come fall.”
Says I, “Things look
Like we farmers can fatten the pocket-book.”
“Mebbe,” says he,
“But inarm vows there ain’t much she can see.”
“Ye can’t jest crawl,”
Says I, “but there’s money for folks with
sprawl.”
Old Hezekiah shifted legs and give a lonesome
groan;
“I begun with these two hands,” said he,
“And I’ve only held my own.”
He has always worked like blazes, but, has
always seemed to fail;
—Made his grabs at prancin’ Fortune, but has
caught the critter’s tail;
Never jumped and gripped the bridle—wouldn’t
darst to on his life;
Always acts too blasted meechin’—and I’ve laid
it to his wife.