THE POGY DAYS AND NOW. 185 



We had no lack of hardy toil, 

 But as to wealth, wan't elected. 



'Twas then we thought of home, sweet home, 



Of friends and comforts left behind ; 

 Of our dear old South and betterments. 



And of many other things in kind. 



I sighed for the songs of whippoorwills, 



And longed to nerd my father's flocks ; 

 To see the dear old bills of Caroline, 



Divel take the pesky gold and rocks. 



Rucker yearned for the cracker girl, 



Sweet to him ee'n in her shabby frock, 

 Swore if he got back to her again, 



There he'd forever plant his stock. 



True to his word here he has staid, 



Has proved most faithful to that vow ; 

 Plodded on through the weary years. 



Till his form has begun to bow. 



I went back to old Caroline, 



After years wandered here again ; 

 Could not forget the cracker girl, 



Who fixed her image on my brain. 



Found Rucker on an upper limb. 



Though I am roosting on the fence ; 

 I am glad to hear Rucker crow. 



He's got dollars, where I've got cents. 



Rucker was sort of slow and sure, 



I, perhaps, little sorter fickle ; 

 But he's raked in the spondulicks, 



And I've just about lost the sickle. 



