THERE’S been a fair in our nearest town, A wonderful show of new things, And Ebenezer and I went down Just to see the folks, and view things. I wore the bonnet I got last week, This stylish city-made bonnet, And was sorry I did after all, For the dust settled so upon it. I wouldn’t have Ebenezer know, Or Parson, for all creation, But I don’t feel right unless I’m dressed In the very latest fashion. There’s sister Thomson, a good old maid, It’s many a hint she’s given, I’d feel more at home in Vanity Fair Than I would in the courts of heaven. She vexes me with her saintly ways, I never need try to please her, And I can guess at the reason too, She wanted my Ebenezer. “She’s delicate,” she said to him once When he was at first my lover, “No sort for a farmer lad to choose, Sakes alive! there’s nothing of her.” “She won’t stand life’s toil and turmoil long!” She says of late, so regretful, Well, she may get Ebenezer yet For all men are so forgetful. But never mind, I went to the fair, I wish, my dear, you had been there, For I know you would never forget Such pretty sights as were seen there. Now, since I saw the marvel myself, I know you’ll surely believe it, They’re fooling ’round with the lightning grim, Have made a plan to deceive it. Just think of taking some bits of steel, And a rod that’s far from pliant, To put on the roof of a house or barn, That it can glare ’round defiant. Ebenezer fancied it, I know, And wanted to make the bargain, But kind of dreaded what I would say, And also good elder Largain. “’Twould be right pleasant” he said to me, “When the storm was at its labors, To have something standing up like that To scare it off to the neighbors.” “Ebenezer,” I said, very sharp, For I didn’t like his spirit, “God holds all the lightning in His hand, Then why should His children fear it? “You just let that precious thing alone, Let it alone, Ebenezer, And if we’re struck when the lightning comes, Why never mind, Ebenezer.” Then there were machines for everything, But I would feel like a ninny, Setting all day on a cushioned chair, Spinning rolls on that queer jinny. They wanted to sell me one right off, I shook my head, “not at present,” I’ll do my work in the good old way, Though it isn’t quite so pleasant. I’ve done my share of the big farm’s work, Spinning, and weaving, and baking; Though sometimes only the good Lord knows How my back and legs are aching. And whatever sister Thomson says, She can’t make fun of my working, And if I like fashion most too well, ’Tisn’t the fashion of shirking. There’s awful smart people in the world, You’d think so if you had been there, Such signs and wonders on every hand, At the fair was to be seen, dear. And I wore my very newest things, Maybe I shouldn’t have done it, But truth is truth, and I’ll own right up, I look quite nice in this bonnet. I wouldn’t have Ebenezer know, Or parson, for all creation, But I don’t feel right unless I’m dressed In the very latest fashion. [Decorative image unavailable.] |