folks ask why i never married.

i watched my

father swallow his breakfast whole and rush away,

leaving mother with us children to be readied for school,

lunch to be prepared for noon,

washing to be done,

and the fitting out of a big evening meal.

father would come home late,

tired out,

falling asleep in the best chair after supper,

while mother put the house to rights,

got me, my brothers, my sister

and, finally, father off to bed.

from morning until night,

every day of the week,

that was mother’s life.

father got a holiday from time to time.

mother never did.

that’s why i moved out and came to work on the farm.

soon as i could i bought it for my own.

all these years i’ve managed fine without a man.

i may work as hard as my mother,

but i’m drudge to no one.