From Rude Rural Rhymes by Bob Adams, New York: The Macmillan Company; 1925; pp. 54-55.
FAIR TIME
On every farm there should be spare time
To take a holiday at fair time.
Yea, though the oats are cured for thrashing
And silo corn is right for slashing,
Let’s steal one whole day from our labors
To see a few new sights, by jabers,
And swap some new lies with the neighbors.
O let us go with gleeful goshes
To gaze upon the first prize squashes,
And full of grins and honest gloats,
Let’s point with pride to good fat stoats.
Pas hat is small, a size or two,
Because his corn is tagged with blue,
And Ma can triumph in her turn
Because the first prize jell is hern.
Our barefoot Jim is not forgotten
But wins with spuds that he has brought in,
While Sue’s best beau beholds her biscuit
And right away decides to risk it.
Each rural fair should have some classes,
With entry free, for lads and lasses.
To offer small but many prizes,
For kiddies’ work, a plan most wise is.
[55]
Ten-dollar prizes make more noise,
But easy cash is bad for boys.
Let many kids go glad to bed
Instead of one with swollen head.
A jitney here and two bits there
Will make the youngsters like the fair,
And if we train them up like this,
When they’re grown they’ll never miss.
When you have joined the angel throng
The fair will still be going strong.
Yea, when you rest beneath the grasses
All those who can will try for passes,
But if they can’t get through the wickets,
They’ll trot around and buy some tickets.