Old Farmer at the Five and Ten
Author Edna Jaques
A gray old farmer who had nine children
goes out to the five and ten...
Picking up the little gadgets as he goes,
A painted hook, a few assorted bolts...
Counts out a few small screwnails that he knows
will come in handy out around the place,
A look of sheer delight upon his face.
He buys a button for the smokehouse door,
Test out a saw with a well-calloused thumb,
Picks up a little whetstone in a box,
Hunts for a hinge with flanges smooth and plumb,
Chuckles with glee at some new-fangled whim
that seems to strike a funny spot in him.
He makes his way around the crowded aisles,
Tut-tutting in a mild bewildering way,
Fingering in the little gadgets bright and new
His simple heart pleased at the wide display
(Like a small boy loose in a country store
Wondering what he will spend his pennies for).
He digs around in an old shabby purse
To find the money for his little bill,
Smiles at the girl in an old gentle way
Who drops the money in the clicking till.
Then down the street he goes as pleased as punch,
Back where he left the tractor, to eat his lunch.
Author Edna Jaques
A gray old farmer who had nine children
goes out to the five and ten...
Picking up the little gadgets as he goes,
A painted hook, a few assorted bolts...
Counts out a few small screwnails that he knows
will come in handy out around the place,
A look of sheer delight upon his face.
He buys a button for the smokehouse door,
Test out a saw with a well-calloused thumb,
Picks up a little whetstone in a box,
Hunts for a hinge with flanges smooth and plumb,
Chuckles with glee at some new-fangled whim
that seems to strike a funny spot in him.
He makes his way around the crowded aisles,
Tut-tutting in a mild bewildering way,
Fingering in the little gadgets bright and new
His simple heart pleased at the wide display
(Like a small boy loose in a country store
Wondering what he will spend his pennies for).
He digs around in an old shabby purse
To find the money for his little bill,
Smiles at the girl in an old gentle way
Who drops the money in the clicking till.
Then down the street he goes as pleased as punch,
Back where he left the tractor, to eat his lunch.
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