<^c ^1 "^^ • .-Curves. ^ * ^ 1 1 ^*^-»y?'??-i_ * O «i "'^ - > ^. A^ .-.. ^-^^ ""'' ^^^ V ^'lioiL'* <^ ^ - ° " '^ -» '^ ^C \ V ■ACL V o o o %.^" '^ ■•^-'.■^^ .'iJ mmnnmmmmmmmMi^i^M^ a s 11 1 II 11 B SOlf BY— /■ DAVID h/fOLK. "FAIRFIELD RECORDER" JOB PRINT, FAIRFIELD, TEXAS. 188«. ri mmmimmmnmmnm mmmmimmrmmrmmnnYmu i mt f COTTOX iillER, i d m \;i -^^ ^^C32nn. —BY— y i DAVID H. FOLK, g '7^^- COPYEIGHT 1S79. AI.L EIGHTS BZSEBVZD. 18843. aj iiLiiLLLLuj u LujLLitauuLu I ran .f 3 DEDICATION. To the honest, strong-armed and hard-laboring Poor Men, this Poem is most sympathetically inscribed as a token of friendship, on account of the many disadvantages, impositions and burdens under Avhich they are laboring; and as a token of a living hope that the time shall come when they will cast oft' the burdens and impositions of government, monopolists, sharks and speculators, and fix prices upon their products and industry, in a just and equitable ratio, in comparison with the non hard laboring and producing world's charges for business, official and professional services. Yours Faithfully, DAVID H. FOLK. Fkeestone Co., Texas. September 1, 1886. I I ^ s mmmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmBimm I H ^ B i M SOM OF THE COTTOS HOEK. TIME — MORNING. Now up the row. And watch the hoe, i\.nd now on 'tother coming. I'm all the time A thinking rhyme, Or "gain and loss" I'm summing. Oh ! how I need (Hoe out that weed ! ) Some ten or fifty dollars; And if I make. For grass's sake, I'll buy some hoes and collars . And as for land. Black, loamy sand, I've got as good as any, And with some help (You little whelp!) I'll make as much as many. wmmmmmiJiTimmfjmmnmm ^DiojiiimiDaiJJioiDHJiDXimmE a H .3 a (Leave all the g^rass, And I'll alas I _ Knock you ten feet a sprawling^), S^ Tlie moneyed men Will take it when I count out market hauling. ^ I've left out, too, (Tight, look at youl ) The hire of all the picking' — (Confound your skin, I'll make you grin. If you don't keep a kicking.) It breaks my back To drag a sack, All day a constant bending; And I am bound To look around For those on such depending It looks like I Am bound to buy A fev,- things. Well I know it, But if your hoe Is broke, you know 3 You've got your row to hoe it. iiiiBjmjTomimimixoxnii?^: I I SONG OF THE COTTON HOER. 8 And there's no use To play the deuce, Ani leave the grass a growing; Put to a stand, 'T would soon be grand, For grazing stock and hoeing. It's now as bad As any lad, (That big old weed there, slay it ! ) Though work's not high No use to try I ne'er can stand to pay it. But had I hands To work mv lauds: But what's the use to make it? We do the work That others shirk, And when 'tis made, they take it. Let's see; I owe, (Tight, hoe your row! ) For things of last year's cropping. (Can you not see We'll disagree 'Bout such half cotton chopping?.; If iMiiciimioMioira s 3 i— g S m s ^^ >R< m 3 oimioioiiiBmmmiiom SONG OF THE COTTON HOEE. Six pairs of shoes, Some tens and twos, My wife's and daughter's dresses; One winter coat A.nd hat; I quote From bill which so oppresses. I also got Sundries a lot. There's no use specifying; The merchant swore That I'd deplore The failure of not buying. I bought in March Two pounds of starch, It's hardly worth a naming; And yet deny It would imply Just what I'm not at aiming Two plows I bought, At cost I thought, Two hoes with which we're hoeing, And hames and chains. Rope lines for reins, Have nie still for them owing. H ^ g s i i mimmBiiMMimw^ so:ng of the cotton hoek. 5 And half the meat Which we did eat; Two sacks of Texas tioiir, A stove aud pans, Lamp oil, by cans, — Enough to make one sour! Ten pence I found, Lard by the pound, I had no choice aud bought it; I did not say 5 Of course, that day, I could not pay, but thought it. 3Iy horse lay down And died, "old Brown," And left me for him owing; And I don't see How I can be Prepared to pay no showing. My crop will fall Far short of all I'm owing for. I'm fearing Per cents must wait Till through this strait Of hard times I am steering i B SQ-SG Ox THU CC»TTOX HOEEL fcj 5 ^ ^ ^ For wliat T o^w^e Them: as they kno"fv. Fm bound to live. Taxation Would soon play ont. Bevond a donbt. At such extermination. I mean to pay 3Iy debts some day; No man shall be forgotten. Althongh I know That times are so There's nanght now made on cotton. We do not get Pay for onr sweat. Much less for time and troable: And yet we fools Will nse onr tools To help hard times to donble. Now, as for me, Fll try and see What Inck there is in swappin^r; Perhaps Fll make That way "a stake" — The devQ take the cropping. &rijlltJUlUjJxU.IUilllU010AtUJii.Ujlig snnm[m nry\\unrinmfvm\n nmm 6 SOXG OF THE COTTON HOZB- • That sorrel mare C Has nglv Iiair. w But she is good and blo«>ded; With such as she — Tisfht, follow me — I wish the land was flooded . What do yon mean. Tight, when vou lean Upon vour handle, srazic^? Ton lazy loon When it comes noon ril send you ont to grazing. Ton know that yon Mnst, this year throngh. Work for yonr bread and wages, m never pay My debts, they say. With snch as yon, for ages My raxes, too — • Now, Tight you'll do) And other debts Tve conn ted; With doctors' bills, Cansed by chills. Have way np yonder mounted- mnmnmmimmnnmnmmm^ ^ "^ S05G OF TKZ COTTON HOEIL Oh I let us raise A hymn of praise To all the cotton growers; I've lost my health And have no wealth, I'm one of '*thorongh goere/" I've toiled and hired Until Tm tir&l. While others hold eommnnions; Kept cotton low And made me know What's meant by having "unions. '' Hush! Tight, I say, That horn to-day — Hush I don't you hear it Vjlowing? Hoe out your row And let us go, God knows this cotton's growing. TIMZ — EVZXIKG. Pick up the hoe, Away we go, We've had our herbal dinners; No care for sweat With those in debt, And those who'd come out winners. mnrnmrnmjmmnmnjmmm. 9 I wish I had Another lad To help me finish hoeing. I've a big crop And cannot stop To see who v.ants a showing. In other lands They get farm hands Whene'er they want, by winking; But here, if you Want one or two, You're put to work a thinking. And when you find They have a mind To go to work, not willing, These triliing tramps And lazy scamps Need, half of them, a killing. S I cannot tell, Of course, as well As some with Latin learning; S But I do think, f^. To eat and drink, S They should their bread be earning C icciaTcoiQaiiniGimiiTrnnaiio gs 10 SONG OF THE COTTON HOEK. They beg their way, So people say, They never think of payinj^; I'd like to see One fool with me About just now a staying. I\l pnt to work Tliis Gypsy Turk, And make him earn his living; Things don't to me, By bills vou see. Come bv a freelv giving. Their friends are dead, Their hopes have fled, And thus'thro' earth they wander. With me they fooi, They'll get a tool. And something o'er to f)onder. ^ 3 H They have the "brass" S To make them pass, And set us all to weeping, Sister, brother. Father, mother. Are joys in Heaven reaping. g N i w^mjmmmimKmnmmmmm^ Sj^rmrrrriTiirimmmTmriimrm^^^^ SONG or THii COTTON HOER. 11 I've bread and meat, For those to eat, Who like to help to make it, Aud if they stalk Round me, I'll talk Aud ask them not to take it. 1 think I'll get To-morrow yet Ui)ou this grassy hoeiug; But in the main, Should't chance to rain, 'Twill set me back no kuovviug. I hope 'twill not Although I've got No faith in Texas weather; 'Twill shine to-day, To-morrow may Find mud upon our leather. But^ rain or shine, No time is mine, I must be up and going; There's wood to luuil And rails to mall, And God is only knowing. ?^ TmT»>nrimrnmmmT ninriTn)7 a lU. 12 50SG or TEZ COTTON HOEE. And hot or cold. And sick and old. I must keep on a slaving; As those I o^we Are men, you know, Whose appetites are craving. That grassy row Has dullei my hoe, But now"s the time to slaughter; The stumps and trees Will sleep give ease — I wish I had some water. rd go and bring — But that's the thing- Some for our present drinking; But I declare, No time to spare And what's the use of thinking. This cotton patch Will make me scratch. Like mother hens with chickens, And should I find Tm not behind rU settle up with Dickens. ^ miainiraincnicanraiaraml ssnniTiTmT>TmT)TnnmiTrmn)TinT SONG OF THE COTTON HOEB. 13 I've toiled my life. Myself and wife, In vain, howe'er, to do it; And I have made, With skill and aid. Whichever way I view it, :^ livin? bare. Such as I dare Not tell the world of fashion. Lest I should throw At them a blow And pnt them in a passion. It's up a row And down we go, And up and down and going: It's here's a weed. And there's the need Of plowing well and hoeing. From dawn till night, • And left and right. There's grass and work and sweating; From year to year. We persevere. But toil for others' getting. [aiOTOTnMoinirnToioTrrinMTS I s mjmjTJTniTJTmxrrmTJi 3 14 SONG OF THE COTTON HOEK. H ^ ^ ._^,^^ ^^. , -, ^.~^^^.~. ^.^ .-^^-^ B The moneyed clan S Together plan, ^ But what's the nse of talking To those whose ears Have closed for years g To warning of much "hawking." m^ Your words are vain, B You're classed insane S^ And ridiculed by righters(?) H Sv?me farmers, too, Will join their crew, ^ Just like a fool for fighters. >«? • But had I tongues, 3 Ten thousand lungS) H The rich would surely know it; I'd paint, nor shrink. In black as ink. The "face of facts" and show it. )mi h^. You'll lose your time, Your reason, rhyme. And get a world of scolding; Most ev'ry pen Will show the sin ^ Of not the rich upholding. ^ I S i^mmmimimnmmsmMMMim g I But, by the way, I'll say my say If it does feelings ruffle. "Big bug?," you see, Are biting me— I sting in this ground scuffle. O, gilt-edge themes, With skimmed off creams, From Greek and Latin learning I When shall ye cease To mention Greece, While we, the stone, is turning? When shall we be Again set free From burdens of taxation, And learn'd men's laws At which courts pause For cash's accommodation? We ought to know What means the show Of freedom's celebration; Nor join the shout That leaves us out As brutes for legislation . Irxnnoiiniioinii gnminmtTnriTnTnTnTnmTmiTi^ I I g 16 SOSTG OF THE COTTON B.O'EE. But as it's time To dose tbis rfivme And s-o and feed tbe cattle. Wed better kiKick (Mon tiiis rock Our tools oi life's great battle. •* Go by and biing. Tight, eTeryihing And hie on to the feeding." I am a boy Goold I employ Tbe vDzst of all a needing. '-ToulL &ad mj eoat dose to tbe moat. Beside a tree a lying. And leave oui hoes At end of rows" — That ovl himarif is tryiiig. "Ton'd better get That plow I let Old Snoc^ hare, as weTl need it: And bring it, too. Xow sir, do you Then heed it" g^fTTnTtTmrt f n n r f f rn i n nrrmTTTTTg f TIME — NIGHT. ABOTTTTD THE HZ-iilH. Im tired to deatli, And ont of breath, 3 And ont of cash and credit: My Inck is played And I am flayed, And yet a tear — -who'll shed rt? What we sliall do These hard times thron^fa. There is on earth no telling; What we shall make ^ This year's at stake, 5 And weVe no say in selling. M We are but fools And useful reals To do the work for other«; While "we might be. From debts all free, A mighty band of bsotfieTS. The merchant's elan, M-.-^st to a man, 5 And ask their price and get it: And ve must p«y Them what tiiey say Is fair per cent^ nor fret it. SlUaaiJUUjIIUlLLLUAiulMiilUUji :; 18 SONG OF THE COTTON HOER. The doctors' hearts Beat, too, for starts, In unison together, Charge what they will — A bitter pill — Our talk's not worth a feather. The lawyers plead For those in need. At prices simply awful ; For naught they care, We must forbear. Their price is just and lawful. The bankers meet And then complete Their skillful calculation. And when the sheep Are all asleep They tieece them "like the nation." The railroad kings Form into rings To buy up legislators. Who make the laws To aid the cause Of those dire depredators. ^mmm^smnnmmssssHsmmsm SONG OF THE COTTON HOER. 19 Bondholders strive To keep alive The blessings of taxation, That we shall sink To ruin's brink For their accumulation. High taritis, too, Help but the few. Id joint co-operation, To rob the land, While we must stand The burdens of creation. Without such laws As aid the cause Of kings of oiy creation; Although we make. From gulf to lake. The land an admiration. And cotton's kings— Soft-handed things- Have but one mind and pocket; They'll classify And price and buy And weigh it, ere they dock it. 1 2^ 1 s 20 SONG OF THE COTTON HOEK. 5 "Cotton to-day ^ 5 Is dnll," they'll say— "One-fourth cent low, declining," And thus compel 1 s Us all to sell 2 At terms themselves assigning. s They would ne'er raise u» 5 All of their days 2 2 For prices they are giving; 3 fe Albeit they 5 s Would have us say, 1 s "It's good to be a living." ^ 2 Thus times are so S m That we well know =1 s We ought these*facts be heeding; 3 1-^ All clan to make 2 Their mottoes take, s While we the plow keep speeding. 1 5 We'll never rise, ^ s Unless we're wise s 5 Enough our work to praise it. 3 M Then let us meet ^ 2 Price cotton, wheat, 1 And let them give, or raise it. ^ i o:raitrxaatttrxiLirxiiiittiiiLiitt^^^ B sarr>TrrriTirnTmT riniTnriTnrmTnnni ?;z Why should we toil All day our soil, For pay so very little, While others chari^e A price so lar^e, We labor hard; they whittle. What is our life. But one of strife? No time for recreation, While those that toil Not in the soil, Have sweet's intoxication. Hot beds of ease Spring up to please Their bloated taste and notion, And we must make, Just for the sake Of keeping wheels in motion. Whose house is fine. Where trails the vine? Whose clothes are worth the wearing? Who live at ease, Save from disease. And spend their thousands airing? ^iimiimiimmiiDi I i § Speak out, you blind, Let loose your mind, Long time you've been forbeariucj. By truths that show Where'er we go Let us begin comparing. Let us be wise And ope our eyes, Demand just weights and measures. And prices too For what we do, In these consist our treasures. The millions eat Our bread and meat, And billions wear our making; We spread the sail. For ships we iiail. From lands where bones are aching. The wheels that turn By fires that burn Are kept by us a going; Coal mines and gold Their wealth unfold, While we reap not our sowing. a 5 I i OTHMnioirnioiiinxnismixoi^ SONG OF THE COTTON HOEE. 28 We get the tares And worldly cares A.nd back seats for our trouble ; Kid gloves aud gents Must have their rents, If hard times on us double. They've kept us down, With price and frown, To fight their daily battle, And we should show Them that we know We're something more than cattle. But "No," says one, "We are undone And what's the use of striving 'Gainst moneyed men Whose tongue and pen Would show that we are thriving. "We must support The world and court And officers of station. If we expect Laws to protect With just interpretation. m s I !S^iiiiB)BTO 01)11 Ji II o:iB3imii]omj 24 SONG OF THE COTTON HOEE. "Although their pay, What e'er they say, Is to us all aggressive; And what we do Is much more^ too, Upon us all oppressive. "Expense is great But men of state Must be paid well for serving." That's argument With earnest vent From those always a swerving. Well, let them go To — well you know — And let us have the cheap ones, If they will get Us out of debt, And quagmires that are deep one.s. But Smart, the fool, And Vote, the too], Must keep discri jinating ; The government Must have its rent Like men a speculating. ^ § ^^^ 1^^^ w E S5 'mfmimmmmiimnuummnn'^ :sj[iii[oion:Bii)iO]QmiiiBMB.imx]M SONG OP THE COTTON HOER. 25 S i i^ Big pay, indeed! Tboiigli we should need Some meat upon our table ; Still we must bear All this, nor care, As long as we are able. No, just as soon 'Spect night at noon, As me to tell them blandly That I will vote For men of note To rob my pockets grandly. My vote shall be. Now watch and see, For those who'll stop us taxing. From a tipstaif To those who laugh. Now while their fortune's waxing. I shall oppose, In time, all those Whose count in "vulgar" fractions Has robbed the laud Of millions, and Are making still exactions. I I .^ Id Is I H T\irrfiMrri:rOTOirRiTrrcicFTs rnimnrnma M u. 26 SONG OF THE COTTON HOER= 'Tis thus I'd call On farmers all Yov oaths of aflBrmation, That we will stand A.11, hand in hand, No more of peculation. Figbt tricksters through One siege or two, To rectify disasters; 'Twill surely learn Them in their turn Vv'e are the world's Great Masters. They have not shown, Save to their own, A heart of human reason ; Then why should we . Ask them to be Our friends in spite of treason'? If we should pray, Both night and day, For laws for our protection, Like moneyed kings. Who form in rings. What get we, on reflection? B But snubs and sneers Which prove our fears Are worthy of muoh laughter ! They ne'er can see Or feel that we Just equal rights are after. If Mr. Wealth, Just for his health, Asks laws for his protection, Pretentious quacks Will sift the facts- It's all right, on reflection; While we must sweat And toil to get From 'neath oppress'd condition. That sink in shame The strcmg man's name 'Neath any recognition. Take church and state. For love or hate. And find a ragged devil Had better stay From them away, If he would seek his level . immmmmmmmmBMM Pi 28 SONG OF THE COTTON HOEE. H It may seem hard S To thus discard, And rail at men of letters ; But Where's relief, Save but in grief. From those considered betters? Laws made by Great, A reprobate, And Gent, and Reputation, And Captain Smart, And Pare of Heart, And Acts, and Deeds, and Station. I'm tired of Sense, As Evidence Has long and plainly spoken, That we should make. For Goodness' sake, A change of laws all broken . I'm tired of Tact, In point of fact. Taste, Eloquence and Charmer ; And Judas Judge Does, too, begrudge A living to the farmer. mrnRmmiimmimmmmtmxM tte' p, ^ d i '0 B B 8 s a SOXG OF THE COTTOX HOEE. There, Money, too, Has friends no few, Who, in rich harvests, revel At our expense, AVhile Common Sense Should send hira to the Devil. I'm tired of debt A.S any yet E'er offered up 'vocation. And if what's strange Don't make a change, Curse on our legislation ! What hopes, but slaves, This side our graves Can vve e'er hope to cherish? Then, let us strike For what we like, If we should in it perish! Go to the polls And "pool" our souls 'Gainst ev'ry combination; Teach money kings. And clans, and rings :- They need some regulation. 29 'a B &w i smmMoumnoi] They've robbed us long, Yet we are strong Enough to give them battle, And we should heed No more, indeed, Their shallow tittle tattle. They've made the laws To aid their cause, To rob us of our earning ; And we have paid Too dear in trade And government for learning. 'Tis this to pay And that, they say, "The laws must be respected," And if you make A small mistake. Poor dog, you're soon detected; Imprisoned, hung, Your requ'em sung, To tune that crime is raging Throughout the land, On ev'ry hand, 'Mong those who war is waging. Ifmmmnnmimmmmmmml miMomoHiimiimxiiom SONG OF THE COTTON EOEK. 31 With bare-faced need And hands of greed,' And hands of public phmder! Yea, make them bleed Till evil deed Shall cause the world to wonder! Let Wealth otfend? Some mighty end Led him in, rather funny; And if he's found To be unsound. He hushes all with money. It's quite a shame To speak his name, With bad men in connection; You do not know, But may be so. He'll run the nest electi(jn. And run and be, For aught you see. Elected by a number That would put down Most any frown. And silence even thunder. i 5 In vain "we'd know "Why things are so; In vain, for explanation We look to those Who should propose Some better legislation. But what-«ftB-they for pay, ,*i And birds of richest featuer; And all you'd pray, Or do, or say, They'll flock with them together. Thus, when they meet In halls, they greet Each other like arch statesmen. The one most wise, With oxen eyes, Gets on the floor and states then: "My trusted friends We've toiled for ends Which costs us pains and money; We've now a chance. If you'll advance, To rob the bees of honey. I I I LIB OiIBjIImIIII SONG OF THE COTTON HOEK, "We're in our prime, And now's the time, To hold a sweet communion;" Those eat and drink Must doubtless think Themselves fit for this union. With flaming eyes, All looking wise, All join in invocation: "Almighty God, Although the rod Has fallen on this nation, "May people find We're quite inclined To serve this generation The best we can, As any man Who'll honor such a sation. "But if our deeds Should go to weeds. May grace and strength uphold us, 'Till we shall run Life's race, and done, Then in thy arms to fold us. B P. M 'iim-mmmEmmmsmmmmM g "Help us all through In what we do, In every undertaking; For in thy care We hope to share The peace that knows no breaking. "The praise be thine, Thou God divine, Amen.'" We'd better double Our hopes for gain And risk the pain Of giving us some trouble. And then they set About to get Good will of leading papers. Who'll for them howl. Like wolves that prowl And cut up midnight capers. Hurrah! for bills. Hurrah ! it thrills Through every vein and column. If folks would lend Their ears they'd mend The looks of things so solemn. 'immamnEnsmMn. H S I I i I SONG OF THE COTTON HOER. 35 The hills rebound The dreadful sound, 'Till naught is heard but thunder Make so and so, The law_, you know, To keep the devils under. But, now, you mind, If we don't find Men to curtail expenses ; Those who mil think Fair speech and ink Are not quite excellences. Who'll legislate For farmers' fate, As well as speculators', Whose selfish acts Are stubborn facts To make us agitators. Who'll not talk 'round When we are found In helplessness contrition, 'Bout some neglect That did direct Our steps to this condition. 36 SONG OF THE COTTON HOEE. M They've better seDse, As* evidence Has taught them to be saving, To meet demands Of Public's hands That everything is craving. But if these will Not fill the bill Just count me out in voting; I'll be, God knows, At ends of rows To know who's worth on doting. I'll bear th«^ toil Of life's rich soil, Of ail abominations. Till care-worn age Shall end this stage Of active operations. Oh ! for a time To change this rhyme, And change the price of cotton; A time to change All that is strange, And hearts of men, so rotten. e G SONG OF THE COTTON HOEE. A time when we Shall all be free From debts and speculations; A.ud pinching cares That change our hairs And change considerations. A good old time That's void of crime, When men shall act in reason; And every brow That's wrinkled, now, Shall smile a happy season. A time when laws Shall serve the cause For which thev were intended; Nor money's friends Defeat the ends Of justice, long offended. But, if I dream, God grant the theme May yet some harp awaken, Whose stiring notes Won't be "wild oats" Like these I've undertaken. 37 i § i b ^ .110 JHCl^^lliTIM^ 1 V