The Song of the Lazy Farmer

Reader Contribution by Sam Moore
Published on September 13, 2011
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The Ohio Farmer, a paper published twice a month by Capper-Harman-Slocum, Inc., of Cleveland, Ohio, contained a feature called The Song of the Lazy Farmer. The author of this on-going feature, which appeared in many farm papers during the late 1940s and early ’50s, was never identified.

From the December 4, 1948, issue comes this loving tribute to his long-suffering wife, Miranda:
Mirandy’s life is pretty tough, she never does have time enough
To catch up on the work she’s got; she keeps that broom of hers red hot,
The floors get swept four times a day and in between she works away
At scrubbin’ down the basement stairs or dustin’ all the front room chairs.
There’s cookies, pies and bread to bake, then pans to wash and beds to make;
The rugs need beatin’ now and then, each week she kills and plucks a hen.
Three times a day she keeps me fed, and after I have gone to bed
She sits beside the fire and rocks while darnin’ up a pile of socks.
Whene’er I watch her rush around I always wish my health were sound
So I could help her out a bit, then she’d have time to stop and sit.
But my arthritis and lame back, my daily rheumatiz’ attack
Keep me from pushin’ on a broom, I couldn’t finish up one room.
My sinuses and allergy keep me from dustin’ too, by gee;
Why my weak stomach even kicks at those meals easiest to fix.
So, even though it makes me boil to see Mirandy work and toil,
I help by restin’ quietly so she don’t have to doctor me.

In the January 3, 1953 issue, the Lazy Farmer’s song was about the New Year and that he was soon to turn 70 years old. Again he mentioned “Mirandy”:
A NEW YEAR’S hung upon the wall and this time I don’t mind at all
Because, for me, this year will be a triple anniversary. For one thing, ’53
Is when I’ll reach three-score ten; though that is s’posed to be life’s span,
I feel so good I’m sure I can go on for quite a bit ‘fore my old ticker has to quit.
Then, secondly, this little song will very soon have perked along for forty years,
And though some say it shouldn’t last another day,
It’s been an awful lot of fun composing ev’ry single one.
Fin’ly and by far the most, this is the year when I can boast
That I’ve lived half a century beneath one woman’s thumb, by gee.
Mirandy claims she doesn’t know how we have ever made it go,
But it is easy to explain: I’ve simply stood each ache and pain
Without complaint and given smiles in payment for her wifely wiles.
I’ve been the world’s most faithful spouse, though often she’s called me a louse;
She calls me lazy, but I say she’s better off with me that way
‘Cause in return I’ve suffered loss by lettin’ her pretend she’s boss.

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