Classic Poem

When June gits here
I cal'culate t' take
A day or two, an' lay around th' farm,
Jest listenin' to the birds an' bees an' things
That work so hard — it won't do them no harm.
I 'm goin' to loaf a few days of the year
When June gits here!

When June gits here
Th' craps kin grow awhile
Without me gittin' up afore daylight
An' urgin' them to hump theirselves, I guess,
Fer weeds do n't never need no help — that's right!
Th' corn an' wheat won't have my hand to steer
When June gits here!

When June gits here,
Seems like a man finds out
That this here world was made fer work AND fun,
An' that, ef he should quit work fer a spell
Th' universe would manage, still, to run,
It 's true, although sometimes it may seem queer,
When June gits here!

When June gits here,
I'll drap my hoe and hunt
The shady side of that old creek an' fish
An' dream, — an eat, — an' sleep — an' be
As lazy as a man like me could wish.
Fer I am sure the Lord kin run this sphere —
When June gits here!