Page:Backblock Ballads and Later Verses (C.J. Dennis, 1918).djvu/33

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Now, the preacher an' the teacher have a callin' that is high While they're spoutin' to the doubtin' of the happy by an' by; But I'm sayin' that the prayin' it is better for their souls When they've plenty wheat inside 'em in the shape of penny rolls. For my father was a farmer, an' he used to sit an' grieve When he thought about the apple that old Adam got from Eve. It was foolin' with an orchard where the serpent got 'em beat, An' they might 'a' kept the homestead if they'd simply stuck to wheat. ''Wheat, Wheat, Wheat! If you're seekin' to defeat '' Care an' worry in the hurry of the crowded city street, Leave the hustle all behind you; come an' let contentment find you In a cosy little cabin lyin' snug among the wheat.

In the city, more's the pity, thousands live an' thousands die Never carin', never sparin' pains that fruits may multiply; Breathin', livin', never givin'; greedy but to have an' take, Dyin' with no day behind 'em lived for fellow-mortals' sake. Now my father was a farmer, an' he used to sit and laugh At the "fools o' life," he called 'em, livin' on the other half. Dyin' lonely, missin' only that one joy that makes life sweet— Just the joy of useful labour, such as comes of growin' wheat. ''Wheat, Wheat, Wheat! Let the foolish scheme an' cheat; '' But I'd rather, like my father, when my span o' life's complete,