The Poetry Corner

The Boy Lives On Our Farm

By James Whitcomb Riley

The boy lives on our Farm, he's not Afeard o' horses none! An' he can make 'em lope, er trot, Er rack, er pace, er run. Sometimes he drives two horses, when He comes to town an' brings A wagon-full o' 'taters nen, An' roastin'-ears an' things. Two horses is "a team," he says, An' when you drive er hitch, The right-un's a "near-horse," I guess Er "off" - I don't know which - The Boy lives on our Farm, he told Me, too, 'at he can see, By lookin' at their teeth, how old A horse is, to a T! I'd be the gladdest boy alive Ef I knowed much as that, An' could stand up like him an' drive, An' ist push back my hat, Like he comes skallyhootin' through Our alley, with one arm A-wavin' Fare-ye-well! to you - The Boy lives on our Farm!