FAMILY HISTORY: POETRY Collection written by Elsie Strawn ARMSTRONG
  
  File contributed for use in USGenWeb Archives by: Les Howard Strawn
  
  Copyright 2006.  All rights reserved.
  http://www.usgwarchives.net/copyright.htm
  http://www.usgwarchives.net/pa/somerset/
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          CHAPTER TENTH
  
  And when I left my farm,
      I believe God would clear my way,
  And we should have our bread,
      And that from day to day.
  
  And now I will acknowledge
      God did prosper our way,
  And we have bread enough
      And some to give away.
  
  We fed the friendly Indians,
      When they came to our door,
  And the Lord did bless and prosper
      In our basket and our store.
  
  And when I went to father's
      I thought I'd make a rule,
  That in the wintertime
      My sons should go to school.
  
  But early in the spring, they
      Commenced to work right manfully,
  Because what they could earn
      Would come into the family.
  
  They undertook a clearing
      To prepare it for the plow,
  And when they got it done
      For that they got a cow.
  
  The third one was fourteen,
      The fourth he was twelve,
  And how those little lads
      Did strive and dig and delve.
  
  The fifth one was afflicted
      And could but little do,
  The sixth one with my parents,
      The seventh, five, 'tis true.
  
  The eighth one is in his grave,
      And the ninth one at my breast,
  And we had a cow and dog,
      And that made all the rest.
  
  And then they took a-field
      And earned some cash that way,
  And then into the meadow
      And earned some, making hay.
  
  And then in a plum thicket
      Where the ground was wet and flat,
  But they persevered and cleared it,
      And they got a horse for that.
  
  And then into the cornfield,
      When they husked the first load,
  Before it was day next morning,
      I was upon the road.
  
  I took it off to Newark
      And traded in that town,
  And brought them back new boots and pants,
      And things for Ziba Brown.
  
  The distance, fourteen miles,
      Seemed rather a long road
  For me to do my trading
      After I sold my load.
  
  A twenty-eight mile drive,
      A short November day,
  After what I had done
      Before I went away.
  
  Milked three cows and got the breakfast,
      Left their dinner on the table,
  That they might save their corn,
      As fast as they were able.
  
  When I milked and got the supper
      I found it was their wishes,
  I should cut out their pants
      Soon as I washed my dishes.
  
  When I came back 'twas dark,
      But one of them did suggest,
  If I'd cut his pants and fix the pockets
      That he could do the rest.
  
  So I cut out his pants
      And a pair for his brother,
  And he took hold of one pair
      And I hold of the other.
  
  And so we made the pants
      Before we went to sleeping,
  Next morning with new pants and boots
      They seemed to feel their keeping.
  
  One took three jumps across the room,
      A looking at his feet,
  The other took a little dance,
      And did it up complete.
  
  And when they saved their corn
      They then observed the rule,
  And so my little boys
      Were started off to school.
  
  And early in the spring
      They did commence their labors,
  In order to get in their crops
      As early as their neighbors.
  
  They were chopping logs and burning,
      And clearing off the ground
  For logs and limbs in those old fields
      Yearly these were found.
  
  And still I kept a thinking,
      And 'twas impressed upon my mind,
  That I should take those children
      And some new country find.
  
  And if they'd thought they could go
      To where the land was clear,
  I could not expect they'd labor
      To clear the land up here.
  
  But O!  The undertaking
      To go so far away,
  With my large helpless family
      To travel day to day.
  
  To leave my old acquaintances
      And aged parents too;
  Oh! It was one close trial
      To know what was best to do.
  
  These thoughts kept me a weeping
      Almost both day and night,
  I prayed to be directed
      And guided on my way.
  
  I at length made up my mind
      That it would be for the best
  To take my little sons
      And set out toward the west.
  
  So one morning at the table
      I mentioned to my boys,
  And they all agreed at once
      We will go to Illinois.
  
  The third son, looking thoughtful,
      Said, "One of us must go
  Down to those old premises
      And let our brother know.
  
  "For I think he'll leave that factory
      And come and with us go,
  He'll be help and company for us,
      And help and company for you.
  
  "I hope he will go with us
      If we go to Illinois,
  For he is the best mechanic
      Of any of us boys.
  
  "He will make our sash and bedsteads,
      And make a table too,
  And help to make the rails
      And all we have to do.
  
  "And after we get there
      We must drop into the work,
  We must all do what we can
      And none must think to shirk.
  
  "When we get to that new country
      We'll have a chance to try,
  And then we must be active,
      Root little hog, or die.
  
  "When we get to Illinois,
      We will all be together,
  For John's already there,
      And that will be so clever."
  
  And then we went to fixing,
      And then no oats were sowed,
  And in two weeks from that time
      We were upon the road.