TAKIN’ COMFORT
I wouldn’t be an emp’ror after supper’s cleared
away;
I wouldn’t be a king, suh, if I could.
So long as I’ve got health and strength, a home
where I can stay,
And a woodshed full of dry and fitted wood.
For Jimmy brings the bootjack, and mother trims
the light,
And pulls the roller curtains, shettin’ out the
stormy night.
And me and Jim and mother and the cat set
down—
Oh, who in tunket hankers for a crown?
Who wants to spend their ev’nin’s sittin’
starched and prim and straight,
A-warmin’ royal velvet on a throne?
It’s mighty tedious bus’ness settin’ up so
thund’rin’ late,
With not a minit’s time to call your own.
I’d rather take my comfort after workin’ through
the days
With my old blue woolen stockin’s nigh the
fire’s social blaze,
For me and Jim and mother and the old gray cat
Come mighty near to knowin’ where we’re at.