{"id":18,"date":"2020-12-19T01:00:00","date_gmt":"2020-12-19T01:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/poetry.newspaperhistory.com\/?p=18"},"modified":"2020-12-19T01:00:00","modified_gmt":"2020-12-19T01:00:00","slug":"over-the-hills-to-the-poorhouse","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/over-the-hills-to-the-poorhouse\/","title":{"rendered":"Over the Hills to the Poorhouse"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
From The Detroit Times, December 19, 1912<\/a>. By Will M. Carleton.<\/em>\n \n\n Over the hill to the poorhouse I\u2019m trudgin\u2019 my weary way\u2014\n I, a woman of seventy, and only a trifle gray\u2014\n I who am smart an\u2019 chipper, for all the years I\u2019ve told,\n As many another woman that\u2019s only half as old.\n \n Over the hill to the poorhouse\u2014I can\u2019t quite make it clear!\n Over the hill to the poorhouse\u2014it seems so horrid queer!\n Many a step I\u2019ve taken a toilin\u2019 to and fro,\n But this is a sort of journey I never thought to go.\n \n What is the use of heapin\u2019 on me a pauper\u2019s shame?\n Am I lazy or crazy? Am I blind or lame?\n True, I am not so supple, nor yet so awful stout;\n But charity ain\u2019t no favor, if one can live without.\n \n I am willin\u2019 and anxious an\u2019 ready any day\n To work for a decent livin\u2019, and pay my honest way;\n For I can earn my victuals, an\u2019 more too, I\u2019ll be bound,\n If anybody only is willin\u2019 to have me \u2018round.\n \n Once I was young an\u2019 han\u2019some\u2014I was, upon my soul\u2014\n Once my cheeks were roses, my eyes as black as coal;\n And I can\u2019t remember, in them days, of hearin\u2019 people say,\n For any kind of a reason, that I was in their way.\n \n \u2018Tain\u2019t no use of boastin\u2019, or talkin\u2019 over free,\n But many a house an\u2019 home was open then to me;\n Many a han\u2019some offer I had from likely men,\n And nobody ever hinted that I was a burden then.\n \n And when to John I was married, sure he was good and smart,\n But he and all the neighbors would own I done my part;\n For life was all before me, an\u2019 I was young an\u2019 strong,\n And I worked the best that I could in tryin\u2019 to get along.\n \n And so we worked together; and life was hard, but gay,\n With now and then a baby for to cheer us on our way;\n Till we had half a dozen, an\u2019 all growed clean an\u2019 neat,\n An\u2019 went to school like others, an\u2019 had enough to eat.\n \n So we worked for the children, and raised \u2018em every one;\n Worked for \u2018em summer and winter, just as we ought to\u2019ve done;\n Only perhaps we humored \u2018em, which some good folks condemn,\n But every couple\u2019s childr\u2019n\u2019s a heap the best to them.\n \n Strange how much we think of our blessed little ones!\n I\u2019d have died for my daughters, I\u2019d had died for my sons;\n And God He made that rule of love; but when we\u2019re old and gray;\n I\u2019ve noticed it sometimes somehow fails to work the other way.\n \n Strange, another thing; when our boys and girls was grown,\n And when, exceptin\u2019 Charley, they\u2019d left us there alone;\n When John he nearer an\u2019 nearer come, an\u2019 dearer seemed to be,\n The Lord of Hosts He come one day an\u2019 took him away from me.\n \n Still I was bound to struggle, an\u2019 never to cringe or fall\u2014\n Still I worked for Charley, for Charley was now my all;\n And Charley was pretty good to me, with scarce a word or frown,\n Till at last he went a courtin\u2019, and brought a wife from town.\n \n She was somewhat dressy, an\u2019 hadn\u2019t a pleasant smile\u2014\n She was quite conceity, and carried a heap o\u2019 style;\n But if ever I tried to be friends, I did with her, I know;\n But she was hard and proud, an\u2019 I couldn\u2019t make it go.\n \n She had an edication, an\u2019 that was good for her;\n But when she twitted me on mine, \u2019twas carryin\u2019 things too fur;\n An\u2019 I told her once, \u2018fore company (an\u2019 it almost made her sick),\n That I never swallowed a grammar, or \u2018et a \u2018rithmetic.\n \n So \u2019twas only a few days before the thing was done\u2014\n They was a family of themselves, and I another one;\n And a very little cottage one family will do,\n But I never have seen a house that was big enough for two.\n \n An\u2019 I never could speak to suit her, never could please her eye,\n An\u2019 it made me independent, an\u2019 then I didn\u2019t try;\n But I was terribly staggered, an\u2019 felt it like a blow,\n When Charley turned ag\u2019in me, an\u2019 told me I could go.\n \n I went to live with Susan, but Susan\u2019s house was small,\n And she was always a hintin\u2019 how snug it was for us all;\n And what with her husband\u2019s sisters, and what with childr\u2019n three,\n \u2019Twas easy to discover that there wasn\u2019t room for me.\n \n An\u2019 then I went to Thomas, the oldest son I\u2019ve got,\n For Thomas\u2019s buildings\u2019d cover the half of an acre lot;\n But all the childr\u2019n was on me\u2014I couldn\u2019t stand their sauce\u2014\n And Thomas said I needn\u2019t think I was comin\u2019 there to boss.\n \n An\u2019 then I wrote to Rebecca, my girl who lives out West,\n And to Isaac, not far from her\u2014some twenty miles at best;\n And one of \u2018em said \u2019t was too warm there for any one so old,\n And t\u2019other had an opinion the climate was too cold.\n \n So they have shirked and slighted me, an\u2019 shifted me about\u2014\n So they have well-nigh soured me, an\u2019 wore my old heart out;\n But still I\u2019ve borne up pretty well, an\u2019 wasn\u2019t much put down,\n Till Charley went to the poor-master, an\u2019 put me on the town.\n \n Over the hill to the poorhouse\u2014my childr\u2019n dear, good-bye!\n Many a night I\u2019ve watched you when only God was nigh;\n And God\u2019ll judge between us; but I will always pray\n That you shall never suffer the half I do today.<\/pre>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
 Over the hill to the poorhouse I\u2019m trudgin\u2019 my weary way\u2014
\n I, a woman of seventy, and only a trifle gray\u2014
\n I who am smart an\u2019 chipper, for all the years I\u2019ve told,
\n As many another woman that\u2019s only half as old.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3,14],"tags":[316],"class_list":["post-18","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-newspapers","category-the-detroit-times","tag-will-m-carleton"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=18"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=18"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=18"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=18"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}