Oh, well. I feel like blowing off today. So, here’s a quick and easy one, a poem.
This poem is from 1948. It’s an obvious play on The Barefoot Boy by John Greenleaf Whittier (appearer in 1855).
Of course, in 1948 we were still trying to recover from WWII.
Barefoot Man
Blessing on thee, little man,
Barefoot boy with cheek of tan;
Trudging down a dusty lane
With no thought of future pain;
You’re our one and only bet
To absorb the national debt.
Little man with cares so few,
We’ve got a lot of faith in you;
Guard each merry whistled tune,
You are apt to need it soon.
Have your fun now while you can;
You may be a barefoot man.
(Of course, he says that like it’s a bad thing . . . π )
Beggar Boys
[Image from here.]
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