And not work at nothin' else!

Orchard's where I'd ruther be—

Needn't fence it in fer me!

Jes' the whole sky overhead,

And the whole airth underneath—

Sorto' so's a man kin breathe

Like he ort, and kind o' has

Elbow-room to keerlessly

Sprawl out len'thways on the grass

Where the shadders thick and soft