From the Rock Island Argus, December 23, 1913. By Henry Howland.
“I’m sorry that we ever met,” I heard ma tellin’ pa, last night;
And pa said he was sadder yet—I guess he said it just for spite.
Then ma she scolded pa some more and after that commenced to cry
And threw her new hat on the floor and said she wished that she could die.
Pa said that he was just a slave and hadn’t any right to live.
The more he earned, the more he gave, the more ma wanted him to give.
“I never get a chance to play; I’m just a drudge, that’s what I am,”
Pa said, and then he went away, and gave the door an awful slam.
When I was gettin’ into bed and ma bent down to hear my prayers
She cried some more and turned her head and said her life was full of cares.
I’m sorry for them both, and yet I’m glad they can’t be free again,
Because if they had never met, why I would be a norphun, then.
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