VII.

If I was grown to be a man, and you And all the others that are workin' here Was always under me, and I could clear The place to-morrow if I wanted to, I'd buy an easy chair all nice and new And get a bird to sing above your head, And let you set and rest all day, instead Of hammerin' them keys the way you do.

I'd bounce that long-legged clerk and then I'd raise Your wages and move up my desk beside Where you'd be settin,' restin' there, and I'd Not care about the weather—all the days Would make me glad, and in the evenings then I'd wish't was time to start to work again.