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Robert W Service - Grand-Pa`s Whim
Work rating: Low

While for me gapes the greedy grave
           It don`t make sense
That I should have a crazy crave
           To paint our fence.
Yet that is what I aim to do,
           Though dim my sight:
Jest paint them aged pickets blue,
           Or green or white.
           
Jest squat serenely in the sun
           Wi` brush an` paint,
An` gay them pickets one by one,
           —A chore! It ain`t.
The job is joy. Although I`m slow
           I save expense:
So folks, let me before I go,
           Smart that ol` fence.

Them pickets with my hands I made,
           When young and spry;
I coloured them a gleeful shade
           To glad the eye.
So now as chirpy as a boy,
           `Ere I go hence,
Once more let me jest bright to joy
           Our picket fence.
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