“Ebenezer,” I said, very sharp,
For I didn’t like his spirit,
“God holds all the lightning in His hand,
Then why should His children fear it?
“You just let that precious thing alone,
Let it alone, Ebenezer,
And if we’re struck when the lightning comes,
Why never mind, Ebenezer.”
Then there were machines for everything,
But I would feel like a ninny,
Setting all day on a cushioned chair,
Spinning rolls on that queer jinny.
They wanted to sell me one right off,
I shook my head, “not at present,”
I’ll do my work in the good old way,
Though it isn’t quite so pleasant.
I’ve done my share of the big farm’s work,
Spinning, and weaving, and baking;
Though sometimes only the good Lord knows
How my back and legs are aching.
And whatever sister Thomson says,
She can’t make fun of my working,
And if I like fashion most too well,
’Tisn’t the fashion of shirking.
There’s awful smart people in the world,
You’d think so if you had been there,
Such signs and wonders on every hand,
At the fair was to be seen, dear.
And I wore my very newest things,
Maybe I shouldn’t have done it,
But truth is truth, and I’ll own right up,
I look quite nice in this bonnet.
I wouldn’t have Ebenezer know,
Or parson, for all creation,
But I don’t feel right unless I’m dressed
In the very latest fashion.
