MY SORT O' MAN

I don't believe in 'ristercrats
     An' never did, you see;
The plain ol' homelike sorter folks
     Is good enough fur me.
O' course, I don't desire a man
     To be too tarnal rough,
But then, I think all folks should know
     When they air nice enough.

Now there is folks in this here world,
     From peasant up to king,
Who want to be so awful nice
     They overdo the thing.
That's jest the thing that makes me sick,
     An' quicker 'n a wink
I set it down that them same folks
     Ain't half so good 's you think.

I like to see a man dress nice,
     In clothes becomin' too;
I like to see a woman fix
     As women orter to do;
An' boys an' gals I like to see
     Look fresh an' young an' spry.—
We all must have our vanity
     An' pride before we die.

But I jedge no man by his clothes,—
     Nor gentleman nor tramp;
The man that wears the finest suit
     May be the biggest scamp,
An' he whose limbs air clad in rags
     That make a mournful sight,
In life's great battle may have proved
     A hero in the fight.

I don't believe in 'ristercrats;
     I like the honest tan
That lies upon the healthful cheek
     An' speaks the honest man;
I like to grasp the brawny hand
     That labor's lips have kissed,
For he who has not labored here
     Life's greatest pride has missed:

The pride to feel that yore own strength
     Has cleaved fur you the way
To heights to which you were not born,
     But struggled day by day.
What though the thousands sneer an' scoff,
     An' scorn yore humble birth?
Kings are but puppets; you are king
     By right o' royal worth.

The man who simply sits an' waits
     Fur good to come along,
Ain't worth the breath that one would take
     To tell him he is wrong.
Fur good ain't flowin' round this world
     Fur every fool to sup;
You 've got to put yore see-ers on,
     An' go an' hunt it up.

Good goes with honesty, I say,
     To honour an' to bless;
To rich an' poor alike it brings
     A wealth o' happiness.
The 'ristercrats ain't got it all,
     Fur much to their su'prise,
That's one of earth's most blessed things
     They can't monopolize.

This work was published before January 1, 1925, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.