Old Posh Poem by Holman Francis Day

Cheerful crab was that old Posh,
---Warn't afflicted much with dosh,
---Fact, he worked round sawin' wood,
Earnin what few cents he could,
Got that name o'Posh in fun;
Dad had named him Washington;
Children got to call him ' Wash,'
Then it last 'twas jest ' Old Posh.'
That's the way, you know, a name
Sort of fits itself with fame;
Would have called him Washington,
But 'Old Posh' was just as good
For a poor chap sawin' wood.

Critter never made no talk,
---Made his old saw screak and scrawk,
Earnt his dollar'n ten a day,
--Didn't leave much time for play.
Had a wife and boys to keep,
Reelly had to skinch his sleep.
I've been out, s'r, late at night
Seen him at it good and tight,
Where he'd took it to be sawed
At a dollar n ten a cord.
And I ' say, ' Ye're at it late.'
Then he'd grunt himself up straight.
Slick his for'ead clear of sweat
And he'd say. ' Wal, you jest bet!
Bankin' hours don't jibe in good
With this job of sawin' wood.
Still, when this 'ere don t suit me
I kin go and climb a tree.'
That's the crack he allus sent;
---I donno jest what he meant---
Likely 'nough, s'r, even he
Didn't have no clear idee.
Still it seemed to fix the thing;
---He'd commence to saw and sing,
'S if at anytime he could
Git clean shet of sawin' wood.
So he worked, s'r, all his life,
Kept his children and his wife;
Boys amount to more'n you'd suppose
---Got good jobs and wear good clothes.
If they'd turned out shiftless, gosh,
Never'd took the thing from Posh!

Posh, he died at seventy-one.
---Worked right up till set of sun,
Sawed his reg'lar cord that day,
Et his supper reg'lar way,
Told his wife warn't feelin' well;
Said he guessed he'd drowse a spell.
For he reckoned, so he said.
That he d saw a while fore bed.
---Warn't no need of workin so,
Boys was earnin' well, ye know,
But he couldn t seem to quit,
---At it stiddy. saw and split

Set that night there in his chair,
Got to dreamin', and I swear,
Snores they sounded near's they could
Like a feller sawin' wood.
Last he gave a mighty 'plock'
Same's he'd strike a choppin block,
When he'd set his ax an' say,
' Wal, I guess that's all to-day.'
Doctor got there quick's he could,
---Said he couldn't do no good.
Shock, ye know! It left things slim
When a man has worked like him.

'Hav' to rest, I guess, a while,'
Posh said, with a crooked smile,
---Shock had twisted round his face,
Alwus does in such a case.
'Hav' to rest, I reckin, for
Feel too tuckered out to saw.'
Jest a little fore he died.
Smiled agin and kind of sighed,
' Guess it's all that's left,' said he,
' Reckin' I'll go climb a tree.'