Up in Maine

Takin’ Comfort

I wouldn’t be an emp’ror after supper’s cleared away;

I wouldn’t be a king, suh, if I could.

So long as I’ve got health and strength, a home where I can stay,

And a woodshed full of dry and fitted wood.

For Jimmy brings the bootjack, and mother trims the light,

And pulls the roller curtains, shettin’ out the stormy night.

And me and Jim and mother and the cat set down—

Oh, who in tunket hankers for a crown?

Who wants to spend their ev’nin’s sittin’

starched and prim and straight,

A-warmin’ royal velvet on a throne?

It’s mighty tedious bus’ness settin’ up so thund’rin’ late,

With not a minit’s time to call your own.

I’d rather take my comfort after workin’ through the days

With my old blue woolen stockin’s nigh the fire’s social blaze,

For me and Jim and mother and the old gray cat

Come mighty near to knowin’ where we’re at.