Classic Poem

IN THE EARLY SEVENTIES

OH, if we had a rich boss
Who liked to have us rest,
With a dime's lift for a benchmate
Financially distressed, —
A boss that's been a " jour. " himself
And ain't forgot the pain
Of restin' one day in the week,
Then back to work againe!

Chorus

Ho, it's hard times together,
We've had 'em, you and I,
In all kinds of weather,
Let it be wet or dry;
But I'm bound to earn my livelihood
Or lay me down and die!
Poverty compels me
To face the snow and sleet, —
For pore wife and children
Must have a crust to eat. —
The sad wail of hunger
It would drive me insane,
If it wasn't for Blue-Monday
When I git to work againe!

Chorus

Ho, it's hard times together,
We've had 'em, you and I,
In all kinds of weather,
Let it be wet or dry;
But I'm bound to earn my livelihood
Or lay me down and die!
Then it's stoke up the stove, Boss,
And drive off the damps:
Cut out me tops, Boss,
And lend me your clamps; —
Pass us your tobacky
Till I give me pipe a start. . . .
Lor', Boss! how we love ye
For your warm kynd heart!

Chorus

Ho, it's hard times together,
We've had 'em, you and I,
In all kinds of weather,
Let it be wet or dry;
But I'm bound to earn my livelihood
Or lay me down and die!