{"id":9358,"date":"2023-06-07T01:00:00","date_gmt":"2023-06-07T05:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.newspaperhistory.com\/?p=9358"},"modified":"2023-06-07T01:00:00","modified_gmt":"2023-06-07T05:00:00","slug":"darby-and-joan","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/darby-and-joan\/","title":{"rendered":"Darby and Joan"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

From The Detroit Times, June 7, 1915<\/a>. By St. John Honeywood.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n\n

When Darby saw the setting sun,He swung his scythe, and home he run,Sat down, drank off his quart, and said,\u201cMy work is done, I’ll go to bed.\u201d\u201cMy work is done!\u201d retorted Joan,\u201cMy work is done! your constant tone;But hapless woman ne’er can say,\u2018My work is done,\u2019 till judgment day.You men can sleep all night, but weMust toil.\u201d\u2014\u201cWhose fault is that?\u201d quoth he.\u201cI know your meaning,\u201d Joan replied,\u201cBut, Sir, my tongue shall not be tied;I will go on, and let you knowWhat work poor women have to do:First, in the morning, though we feelAs sick as drunkards when they reel\u2014Yes, feel such pains in back and headAs would confine you men to bed,We ply the brush, we wield the broom,We air the beds, and right the room;The cows must next be milked\u2014and thenWe get the breakfast for the men.Ere this is done, with whimpering cries,And bristly hair, the children rise;These must be dressed, and dosed with rue,And fed\u2014and all because of you.We next\u201d\u2014here Darby scratched his head,And stole off grumbling to his bed,And only said, as on she run,\u201cZounds! woman’s clack is never done.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n\n

At early dawn, ere Phoebus rose,Old Joan resumed her tale of woes;When Darby thus\u2014\u201cI\u2019ll end the strife,Be you the man and I the wife;Take you the scythe and mow, while IWill all your boasted cares supply.\u201d\u201cContent,\u201d quoth Joan, \u201cgive me my stint.\u201dThis Darby did, and out she went.Old Darby rose and seized the broomAnd whirled the dirt about the room,Which having done, he scarce knew how,He hied to milk the brindled cow.The brindled cow whisked round her tailIn Darby\u2019s eyes, and kicked the pail.The clown, perplexed with grief and pain,Swore he\u2019d ne\u2019er try to milk again:When turning round, in sad amaze,He saw his cottage in a blaze:For as he chanced to brush the room,In careless haste, he fired the broom.The fire at last subdued, he sworeThe broom and he would meet no more.Pressed by misfortune, and perplexed,Darby prepared for breakfast next;But what to get he scarcely knew\u2014The bread was spent, the butter too.His hands bedaubed with paste and flour,Old Darby labored full an hour.But, luckless wight! thou couldst not makeThe bread take form of loaf or cake.As every door wide open stood,In pushed the sow in quest of food;And, stumbling onward, with her snoutO’erset the churn\u2014the cream ran out.As Darby turned, the sow to beat,The slippery cream betrayed his feet;He caught the bread trough in his fall,And down came Darby, trough, and all.The children, wakened by the clatter,Start up, and cry, \u201cOh! what\u2019s the matter?\u201dOld Jowler barked, and Tabby mewed,And hapless Darby bawled aloud,\u201cReturn, my Joan, as heretofore,I\u2019ll play the housewife’s part no more;Since now, by sad experience taught,Compared to thine my work is naught;Henceforth, as business calls, I\u2019ll takeContent, the plough, the scythe, the rake,And never more transgress the lineOur fates have marked, while thou art mine.Then, Joan, return, as heretofore,I\u2019ll vex thy honest soul no more;Let\u2019s each our proper task attend\u2014Forgive the past, and strive to mend.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

From The Detroit Times, June 7, 1915. By St. John Honeywood. When Darby saw the setting sun,He swung his scythe, and home he run,Sat down, drank off his quart, and said,\u201cMy work is done, I’ll go to bed.\u201d\u201cMy work is done!\u201d retorted Joan,\u201cMy work is done! your constant tone;But hapless woman ne’er can say,\u2018My work […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3,14],"tags":[277],"class_list":["post-9358","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-newspapers","category-the-detroit-times","tag-st-john-honeywood"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9358","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=9358"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9358\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=9358"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=9358"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=9358"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}