I have never made much money,
Nor acquired many worldly goods.
But I have had a lot of fun exploring,
The rugged hills and woods.
I have sat by many a campfire,
In wild and lonely places.
And in the leaping flames could see
Myriads of tormented faces.
Of people grubbing their lives away,
Chasing the almighty dollar.
If a single one eludes them,
They set up an awful holler.
Some slave and toil and till the soil,
The very thought makes me shiver.
I’d rather take my old fishin’ pole,
Go and fish some clear, cold, river.
For all six days of the week,
Through Saturday, from Monday.
They plan and dream, some crooked scheme
Then go to church on Sunday.
On Sunday night, they get ‘half tight’,
And carouse ’till after eleven.
They grasp and slave, clear to the grave,
And still think they’re going to heaven.
Some of them shirk, won’t do any work,
They are “too good” to labor.
They dress up in their finery
And get rich off their neighbor.
I’d rather take my dog and gun,
And explore the rugged mountains.
If heaven accepts such folks as them,
I don’t want to see its’ shining fountains.
No! if heaven is to be filled with the idle rich,
With gentlemen? and fine ladies?,
I think I will head the other way,
And take my chance in ‘Hades’.
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