In the late-1800s/early-1900s kids would play barefoot all the time. The poetry of the time thus hearkened back to those idyllic times with longing.
Here is one of those poems.
The poem is “Goin’ Barefoot” by Burges Johnson. It is from 1903.
[I’ve blogged this poem before—it’s worth repeating.]
Goin’ Barefoot
It’s more fun goin’ barefoot than anythin’
I know.
There ain’t a single nother thing that helps
yer feelin’s so.
Some days I stay in Muvver’s room a get-
tin’ in her way;
An’ when I’ve bothered her so much she sez,
“Oh, run an’ play!”
I say, “Kin I go barefoot?” En she say,
“If y’ choose”–
Nen I alwuz wanter holler when I’m pullin’
off my shoes!It’s fun a-goin’ barefoot when yer playin’
any game,–
‘Cause robbers would be noisy an’ Indians
awful tame
Unless they had their shoes off when they
crep’ up in th’ night,
An’ folks can’t know they’re comin’ till they
get right close in sight!
An’ I’m surely goin’ barefoot every day when
I get old,
An’ haven’t got a nurse to say I’ll catch my
death o’ cold!An’ if yer goin’ barefoot, yer want t’ go out-
doors.
Y’ can’t stretch out an’ dig yer heels in
stupid hard-wood floors
Like you kin dig ’em in th’ dirt! An’
where th’ long grass grows,
The blades feel kinder tickley and cool be-
tween yer toes.
So when I’m pullin’ off my shoes I’m
mighty ‘fraid I’ll cough,–
‘Cause then I know Ma’d stop me ‘fore I
got my stockin’s off!If y’ often go round barefoot there’s lot o’
things to know,–
Of how t’ curl yer feet on stones so they
won’t hurt y’ so,–
An’ when th’ grass is stickley an’ pricks
y’ at a touch,
Jes plunk yer feet down solid an’ it don’t
hurt half so much.
I lose my hat mos’ every day. I wish I did
my shoes,–
Er else I wisht I was so poor I hadn’t none
to lose!
[…] les joies d’une enfance déchaussée : Barefoot (1893), When I was a barefoot rover (1897), Goin’ Barefoot (1905), Barefoot Days (1907), Barefoot Days (1926). Le plus connu de tous est peut-être The […]