|His health is good, his limbs are strong,
His voice is like a dinner gong,
He lifts a half a ton with ease
And he can eat a hoop of cheese.
But strange to say he will not work
Because he's lazy as a Turk.
At digging wells or splitting wood
He'd do the world a lot of good,
But something whispers to this chap
That some day he will strike a snap;
And so he loafs the whole day through
And nothing useful will he do,
Because he fears to soil his shirt
Or get his fingers in the dirt.
When first I met this man of ease
He had a rig for shelling peas,
But when he found no great demand
For such a jim-crack in the land
He organized a minstrel troupe
That dealt old jokes and lived on soup
And tried the people's joys to drown
Until they ran him out of town.
A dozen peaceful days passed o'er
Before I saw him any more;
And then he came, imploring me
To join the B. of X. Y. Z.,
A lodge that never asked for dues
And fed its members oyster stews
And paid a hundred dollars gold
For every time you caught a cold.
Verdigris Valley Verse
(Coffeyville, Kansas: The Journal Press. 1917)