Daffodils an' hummin' dance tunes just to give my soul a tone.
It's muscle that I've had to grow since days when I was small,
An' all the music that I've made is with the axe an' maul.
When folks are poor an' toil is hard an' times are harder still
A boy soon learns the use of time if he would eat his fill.
Long before I'd finished schoolin' I had put aside my foolin',
Till now, at thirty an' a bit, I'm workin' at a mill.
It isn't much; but then my folks knew that my chance was dim,
Or they might have named me Reginald instead of just plain Jim.
Just Jim the Hatter, Lonely Jim, the bloke that don't say much.
I've heard how people talk of me: the gossippers an' such.
An' they say I'm slow at givin'; but I've got my way of livin',
An' I've got my bit of farm-land an' a house that ain't a hutch.
An' tho' it hurts if this man sneers or that misunderstands,
I'm proud to know that all I've got was earned with my two hands.
Suppose I don't go gay at times an' throw around the cash:
It's knowin' want that frightened me from gettin' over rash.
I know I'm keen on savin'; but the pinchin' an' the slavin'
An' the starvin' in the old days keeps a man from bein' flash.
I never treated neighbours mean or grudged a mate a pound;
But I ain't out to buy loud cheers by flingin' it around.
