Wessington Springs Herald

A jolly farmer I.
For when I look around.
Fine cows I see, that finer boys
The more they're ground.
I care not for the world
Whate'er may come to pass
I'd smile if all this earthly ball
Should go to grass.
Yet many things there be
Of which I may complain;
When tempests blow, they're apt to go
Against my grain.
And when my hired man.
A careless, reckless pup,
Mowed into me below the knee
I felt cut up.
Yet, now the wound is well,
A happy man am I;
It makes me gay to see each day
The sun get high.
And when the fields of corn
Show many a waving row,
And tickled earth seems, in her mirth,
To laugh—'Hoe! hoe!'
And neighbors hail me oft
At work at early morn,
And jokes let fly—I naught reply:
I own the corn.
Kind words I speak at morn
And when my work is through;
At morn, 'Good day!' at night I say:
'A dew! adieu!'
I'm not above my work,
For, when I look around,
I clearly see none long can be
Above the ground.

—N. Y. Sun.