I <br /> <br />His hoss went dead an' his mule went lame; <br />He lost six cows in a poker game; <br />A harricane came on a summer's day, <br />An' carried the house whar' he lived away; <br />Then a airthquake come when that wuz gone, <br />An' swallered the lan' that the house stood on! <br />An' the tax collector, <br />he <br />come roun' <br />An' charged him up fer the hole in the groun'! <br />An' the city marshal-he come in view <br />An' said he wanted his street tax, too! <br /> <br />II <br /> <br />Did he moan an' sigh? Did he set an' cry <br />An' cuss the harricane sweepin' by? <br />Did he grieve that his ol' friends failed to call <br />When the airthquake come an' swallered all? <br />Never a word o' blame he said, <br />With all them troubles on top his head! <br />Not <br />him <br />…. He clumb to the top o' the hill- <br />Whar' standin' room wuz left him still, <br />An', barin' his head, here's what he said: <br />'I reckon it's time to git up an' git; <br />But, Lord, I hain't had the measels yit!'<br /><br />Frank Lebby Stanton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-poor-unfortunate/
