The summer after high school I
Decided why not try my hand
At working on a farm, and why
Not cultivate my native land?
For it was what I’d read about;
So being of a bookish mind
Why not, I asked, be hired out
In order for myself to find?
So for a meager bed and board
I put myself in ones employ,
Believing work its own reward;
An eager New York City boy.
Whilst I was wanting to apply
Myself to any kind of chore
Work was the only reason why;
As it’s all I was looking for.
Though it proved not so easy to
Acclimatize as I had thought,
The work that he gave me to do
A lesson to me it has taught;
Though being of a bookish turn
And having ideas in my head,
The money which I had to earn
Was frankly very little bread.
And yet it wouldn’t matter so,
Considering that wasn’t what
I cared about but just to show
How good I was at doing that.
So, there I was up on the farm,
And I would learn to get along.
It wouldn’t cause me any harm
But only had to make me strong.
Yet being there was work to do,
And farmers have a bottom line
The farmer had a different view
Of boys for hire than was mine.
And, just as far as he could see,
That first of all work is a chore,
He couldn’t see how I would be
Good for him to be working for.
He’d have a saying he would say
About the kind of work I’d do—
Which was that it was done a way
He had of it the dimmer view:
“Eats like a man; works as a boy!”
Was what he used to say of me;
Whilst under his earnest employ
What good I’d be he didn’t see.
So, it was, roundabout a week,
Of seeing what I did each day,
The farmer said he had to seek
To lower somewhat of my pay;
For being more commensurate
With what I did for being paid
Against how much it was I ate
Out of the living that he made.
So, I figured, I’d have a chance
Of doing better jobs than I
Had done before so to advance
Along the lines I had to try;
To make the best of all I could,
With what I had, if not a lot,
As, it would all be for the good,
For giving it all that I’ve got.
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