The South Kentuckian

Re-published by Request
MY FATHER'S OVERSHOES.
[BY BLIFKINS.]
One day in childhood's days I took
My father's overshoes,
And on the pond down by the brook,
I'd float them like canoes.
Upon the pond I know they would dry
As I piloted them across.
Then in the sun they soon would dry.
And I'd never tell the boss.
So I hied away towards the hold,
My mind on pleasure bent;
I tied a string up each heel,
And round the pond I went.
Oh! how I did laugh and shout!
I laughed till I shed tears.
My mind was free from every doubt,
And undisturbed by fears.
They plowed the billowy heels before
Far out upon the brook
Then majestically approached the shore,
And anchored in the mud.
The shoes were long, and deep, and wide
I filled them full of sand,
And standing on the other side,
I pulled them from the land.
But alas! for me-each sprang a leak
And sank to rise no more,
But still I pulled-the strings were weak,
And broke far from the shore.
Off came my clothes and in I went,
The waters round me rolled.
Toward the wreck my course I bent,
Regardless of the cold.
I plunged into the waters deep,
Nor did I dive in vain.
With joy my troubled heart did leap,
As I sought the shore to gain.
I reached the bank and threw them down;
They were in sad plight.
And as they lay upon the ground
My father hove in sight.
He looked at them -he looked at me.
I met his stern, relentless eye,
And said, remembering the cherry tree,
"Father, I cannot tell a lie,
I put in little too much sand.
I did it just for fun."
But he did not take me by the hand
And thank God for such a son.
"You cannot tell a lie," said he;
"you cannot, that's a fact;
You've ruined my overshoes, you see
I've caught you in the act."
Right here I'll let the curtain fall,
And hide the sequel from your eyes.
Before I'll the closing act recall,
I'd tell a thousand lies.