What Smith Knew About Farming

There wasn't two purtier farms in the state     Than the couple of which I'm about to relate; -     Jinin' each other - belongin' to Brown,     And jest at the edge of a flourishin' town.     Brown was a man, as I understand,     That allus had handled a good 'eal o' land,     And was sharp as a tack in drivin' a trade -     For that's the way most of his money was made.     And all the grounds and the orchards about     His two pet farms was all tricked out     With poppies and posies     And sweet-smellin' rosies;     And hundreds o' kinds     Of all sorts o' vines,     To tickle the most horticultural minds     And little dwarf trees not as thick as your wrist     With ripe apples on 'em as big as your fist:     And peaches, - Siberian crabs and pears,     And quinces - Well! ANY fruit ANY tree bears;     And th purtiest stream - jest a-swimmin' with fish,     And - JEST O'MOST EVERYTHING HEART COULD WISH!     The purtiest orch'rds - I wish you could see     How purty they was, fer I know it 'ud be     A regular treat! - but I'll go ahead with     My story!    A man by the name o' Smith -     (A bad name to rhyme,     But I reckon that I'm     Not goin' back on a Smith! nary time!)     'At hadn't a soul of kin nor kith,     And more money than he knowed what to do with, -     So he comes a-ridin' along one day,     And HE says to Brown, in his offhand way -     Who was trainin' some newfangled vines round a bay-     Winder - "Howdy-do - look-a-here - say:     What'll you take fer this property here? -     I'm talkin' o' leavin' the city this year,     And I want to be     Where the air is free,     And I'll BUY this place, if it ain't too dear!" -     Well - they grumbled and jawed aroun' -     "I don't like to part with the place," says Brown;     "Well," says Smith, a-jerkin' his head,     "That house yonder - bricks painted red -     Jest like this'n - a PURTIER VIEW -     Who is it owns it?"    "That's mine too,"     Says Brown, as he winked at a hole in his shoe,     "But I'll tell you right here jest what I KIN do: -     If you'll pay the figgers I'll sell IT to you.,"     Smith went over and looked at the place -     Badgered with Brown, and argied the case -     Thought that Brown's figgers was rather too tall,     But, findin' that Brown wasn't goin' to fall,     In final agreed,     So they drawed up the deed     Fer the farm and the fixtures - the live stock an' all.     And so Smith moved from the city as soon     As he possibly could - But "the man in the moon"     Knowed more'n Smith o' farmin' pursuits,     And jest to convince you, and have no disputes,     How little he knowed,     I'll tell you his "mode,"     As he called it, o' raisin' "the best that growed,"     In the way o' potatoes -     Cucumbers - tomatoes,     And squashes as lengthy as young alligators.     'Twas allus a curious thing to me     How big a fool a feller kin be     When he gits on a farm after leavin' a town! -     Expectin' to raise himself up to renown,     And reap fer himself agricultural fame,     By growin' of squashes - WITHOUT ANY SHAME -     As useless and long as a technical name.     To make the soil pure,     And certainly sure,     He plastered the ground with patent manure.     He had cultivators, and double-hoss plows,     And patent machines fer milkin' his cows;     And patent hay-forks - patent measures and weights,     And new patent back-action hinges fer gates,     And barn locks and latches, and such little dribs,     And patents to keep the rats out o' the cribs -     Reapers and mowers,     And patent grain sowers;     And drillers     And tillers     And cucumber hillers,     And horries; - and had patent rollers and scrapers,     And took about ten agricultural papers.     So you can imagine how matters turned out:     But BROWN didn't have not a shadder o' doubt     That Smith didn't know what he was about     When he said that "the OLD way to farm was played out."     But Smith worked ahead,     And when any one said     That the OLD way o' workin' was better instead     O' his "modern idees," he allus turned red,     And wanted to know     What made people so     INFERNALLY anxious to hear theirselves crow?     And guessed that he'd manage to hoe his own row.     Brown he come onc't and leant over the fence,     And told Smith that he couldn't see any sense     In goin' to such a tremendous expense     Fer the sake o' such no-account experiments     "That'll never make corn!     As shore's you're born     It'll come out the leetlest end of the horn!"     Says Brown, as he pulled off a big roastin'-ear     From a stalk of his own     That had tribble outgrown     Smith's poor yaller shoots, and says he, "Looky here!     THIS corn was raised in the old-fashioned way,     And I rather imagine that THIS corn'll pay     Expenses fer RAISIN' it! - What do you say?"     Brown got him then to look over his crop. -     HIS luck that season had been tip-top!     And you may surmise     Smith opened his eyes     And let out a look o' the wildest surprise     When Brown showed him punkins as big as the lies     He was stuffin' him with - about offers he's had     Fer his farm:    "I don't want to sell very bad,"     He says, but says he,     "Mr. Smith, you kin see     Fer yourself how matters is standin' with me,     I UNDERSTAND FARMIN' and I'd better stay,     You know, on my farm; - I'm a-makin' it pay -     I oughtn't to grumble! - I reckon I'll clear     Away over four thousand dollars this year."     And that was the reason, he made it appear,     Why he didn't care about sellin' his farm,     And hinted at his havin' done himself harm     In sellin' the other, and wanted to know     If Smith wouldn't sell back ag'in to him. - So     Smith took the bait, and says he, "Mr. Brown,     I wouldn't SELL out but we might swap aroun' -     How'll you trade your place fer mine?"     (Purty sharp way o' comin' the shine     Over Smith!    Wasn't it?) Well, sir, this Brown     Played out his hand and brought Smithy down -     Traded with him an', workin' it cute,     Raked in two thousand dollars to boot     As slick as a whistle, an' that wasn't all, -     He managed to trade back ag'in the next fall, -     And the next - and the next - as long as Smith stayed     He reaped with his harvests an annual trade. -     Why, I reckon that Brown must 'a' easily made -     On an AVERAGE - nearly two thousand a year -     Together he made over seven thousand - clear. -     Till Mr. Smith found he was losin' his health     In as big a proportion, almost, as his wealth;     So at last he concluded to move back to town,     And sold back his farm to this same Mr. Brown     At very low figgers, by gittin' it down.     Further'n this I have nothin' to say     Than merely advisin' the Smiths fer to stay     In their grocery stores in flourishin' towns     And leave agriculture alone - and the Browns.