From Rude Rural Rhymes by Bob Adams, New York: The Macmillan Company; 1925; pp. 107-108.
PLUMBING
O brothers when I start to eat
I want no flies upon my meat.
But when I hear the critters humming
And see some forty ’leven coming,
I’m glad I live where folks have plumbing.
A fly is never clean and neat;
He may have garbage on his feet.
In country homes e’en in this new age
He often carries germs and sewage.
O let us rise and give our thanks
To him who first made septic tanks.
How dear to my heart is a cool drink of water
Poured by some farmer’s charming daughter.
While gazing on that glowing cheek,
Of germs how can I think or speak?
But if I drink can I avoid
The lurking dangers of typhoid?
I fear I must delay the draught
That I may look before and aft,
Survey the landscape near and far
And see where certain buildings are;
Then, noting slope of hill and plain,
Determine where those buildings drain.
[108]
And even if a glance should show
The well above, all else below,
Some excavating should be done
To see how straight the strata run.
Perhaps they dip, perhaps they bend,
Perhaps in that old well they end.
And so, sweet Hebe, don’t you think
You really ought to boil my drink?
Though dear to my heart is the old oaken bucket,
The old leather sucker or chain on a sprocket,
I view the same with grave alarm
At many a home, on many a farm.
I do not like that building’s style,
Let’s move it back a half a mile;
Or, better still, let’s join the ranks
Of those who have good septic tanks.