Robert Kirkland Kernighan

(25 April 1854 – 3 November 1926 / Ontario)

Bushed - Poem by Robert Kirkland Kernighan

' Weariness can snore upon the flint,
While rusty sloth finds the down pillow hard.'


It 's Saturday night ! I 'm tired, rather :

I ve finished the job and had my supper ;
The team's tired, too : they were all in a lather ;

But now they 're free from the bit and crupper ;
I worked them an hour past quittin time

You see I wanted to finish the job
It was n't fair, and I felt it a crime,

When I heard the old mare sigh an sob ;

But she plodded on nothing will stick her

Willin as ever to hear the call ;
But she bit her mate, and gave a nicker

As soon as she heard the trace chains fall ;
But now they 're down in the beaver grasses,

Up to their bellies in blooming feed,
While over their heads the night-hawk passes,

And Dolly and Dan are glad indeed !

I 'm tired to-night ! It 's weary walkin
Behind the plow from morn till eve ;

I hear the wimmin folks, inside, talkin
I 'd ruther sleep, I do believe

That, I fancy, will serve my turn :
I 'll wash my feet and soak my head,

'N drink some buttermilk outen the churn ;
Then wind the clock, an I 'm off to bed.

That buttermilk 's good ! it 's eaten an drinkin !

It freshens one up an cools the mouth
There 's bushels uv whip o wills out, I 'm thinkin,

Whoopin away sure sign uv a drouth.
A sprinkle uv rain would n't hurt the pertaters ;

The frogs is singing the Canady reel ;
They haint got toons like that in theayters

By jing ! ef I hevnt blistered my heel !

There 's some uv the neighbors callin on Min

Swappin their little hopes and cares ;
Like 's not they 'll probly call me in

I 'll quietly mosy along up-stairs !
I 'll sleep like a chicken shet up in a coop ;

Then, at the earliest streak of light,
I 'll stand in my shirt tail out on the stoop

An see that everything 's safe an right.

The bed aint hard, ner yet aint narrow :

And O ! the pillows are cool an white,
An I could sleep on a rough wheel-barrow,

An never roll over, this blessed night !
To-morrow is Sunday ! To-night is peace !

I hope thet dog aint after the sheep :
There's somethin frightened them pesky
geese ;

I 'm falling falling falling asleep !

Comments about Bushed by Robert Kirkland Kernighan

There is no comment submitted by members..

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Poem Submitted: Friday, May 18, 2012

[Report Error]