Ther’ ai n't no use in all this strife,
An’ hurryin’, pell-mell, right thro’ life.
I do n't believe in goin’ too fast
To see what kind o’ road you‘ ve passed.
It ai n't no mortal kind o’ good,
‘ N’ I would n't hurry ef I could.
I like to jest go joggin’‘ long,
To limber up my soul with song;
To stop awhile‘ n’ chat the men,
‘ N’ drink some cider now an’ then.
Do’ want no boss a-standin’ by
To see me work; I allus try
To do my dooty right straight up,
An’ earn what fills my plate an’ cup.
An’ ez fur boss, I‘ ll be my own,
I like to jest be let alone;
To plough my strip an’ tend my bees,
An’ do jest like I doggoned please.
My head's all right, an’ my heart's meller,
But I‘ m a easy-goin’ feller.