He was a poet who wrote clever verses,
And folks said he had a fine poetical taste;
But his father, a practical farmer, accused him
Of letting the strength of his arm go to waste.
He called on his sweetheart each Saturday evening,
As pretty a maiden as ever man faced,
And there he confirmed the old man's accusation
By letting the strength of his arm go to waist.
Paul Laurence Dunbar
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