Y' can't stretch out an' dig yer heels in stupid, hardwood floors,
Like you can dig 'em in th' dirt. An' where th' long grass grows,
Th' blades feel kinder tickley and cool between yer toes.
So when I'm pullin' off my shoes I'm mighty 'fraid I'll cough,
'Cause then I know Ma'd stop me 'fore I got my stockin's off.
If y' often go 'round barefoot there's lots o' things to know—
Of how to curl yer feet on stones, so they won't hurt y' so;
An' when th' grass is stickley, an' pricks y' at a touch,
Jes' plank yer feet down solid, an' it don't hurt half so much;
I lose my hat mos' every day—I wish I did my shoes;