Son Has Got the Deed

Mother fights with Marshy, and Marshy fights with her,
--Don't give up yer proputty, I'm tellin' on yer, sir!
Don't give up yer proputty to nary blessed one,
--Don't keer whuther brother, sir, or nephy, sir, or son.
Don't make over northin', sir, ontil you're done and through,
Or ye'll cuss the day ye done it till the air is black and blue..
Me and marm got feeble and we couldn't run the farm,
Son was newly married and we couldn't see the harm
In makin' on it over, we to have the ell and shed,
Use the sittin' room in common--and a room for one spare bed.
And so we made the papers and we signed 'em, me and wife,
'Lowin' them the stand and stock, and us our keep for life.
Twelvemonth isn't finished, but the trouble has begun,
An' it's one continyal rowin' 'twixt us and her and son.
Marshy dings at mother and mother dings at her,
'F things ain't settled somehow, sir, they'll git to clawin' fur.

Don't give up yer proputty, I'm tellin' on ye straight.
Don't keer who your family is, ye'll rue it sure as fate.
'Fore ye sign the papers they'll come round ye slicker'n cream,
But ye'll notice little later, sir, that things ain't what they seem.
Man that's got his proputty, he's looked to with respect;
Relations they come meechin' round to scratch, sir, where he's pecked.
Ye see, he rules the family roost and leads the family flock,
As proud and full of manners as a Cochin China cock.
But if the years have loosened up his intellect and grip,
And if he thinks his folks are straight, and lets the old farm slip,
He'll find the grin becomes a frown and sweetness turns to greed,
For folks see things in different light when once they've got a deed.
Now Marshy snarls at mother and mother sends it back,
And all the time, from sun to sun, it's clack and clack and clack!

Don't give up yer propputy, hang on till death,
I say;
It's time when you are done with it to give your all away.
Oh, how the devil snickers round when some old codger drools
About "the laying down of cares"--and jines the ranks of fools!
And how the lawyers laugh and joke, and how the angels weep,
To see some old folks deed away their farm for board and keep!
--Never see'd no better cook than Marshy used to be,
When first along she'd ask us down to dinner or to tea.
Used to sweeten grub with smiles when she would pass a plate,
And me and marm, like two old coots, we swallowed hook and bait.
You bet we git some diff'rent looks, we git some different feed,
Jest like they'd throw it out to dogs, now son has got the deed.
An' Marshy growls at mother, and mother's growlin' wuss,
An' I--wal, I jest set and smoke and cuss-- and cuss--and cuss!