The Troubles of the Farmer.
Written by Thomas C. Carter.
How many have heard in days gone by,
A lot of mournful old ditties
About the troubles of town-bred folks,
And those who bang out in our cities.
The farmer alone, we have often been told,
Is the man whose days are sunny;
Who exists like a prince in his rural home.
And rakes in most of the money.
But the man who lives by the plow and the hoe,
Who flounders through mud and worries through snow,
Isn't always in luck, as some of us know,
And sometimes his troubles are many.
The weevil comes round to chew up his wheat,
And his corn is assailed by the crows:
The bugs get after the young squash vines,
And the bullfrog disturbs his repose.
The hen-hawk chases his useful fowls
Whenever they happen to stray,
And the bumble bee camps in the clover lot
And frisks around in the hay.- Chorus.
The political bummer is after his vote
When election time draws near;
His hand is shaken from morn to night,
And the populist sings in his ear
That the People's party is just the thing,
And everything else is vapor;
He must smash the tariff and Wall street, too,
As the proper political caper.-Chorus.
It's all very well when a traveling man,
With something to lighten labor,
Just asks for the farmer's autograph
To show to his next door neighbor;
But he loosens the dog And loads his gun,
And wishes that cuss was nearer.
When the name is attached to a promise to pay
By a trick of the bunco steerer.-Chorus.