The Truant Boy. After Moore's "Minstrel Boy."
By Thomas Frederick Young
Oh, the truant boy to the woods has gone,
And you ne'er, alas, can find him,
He's strapp'd his empty school bag on,
For his books are left behind him.
He's gone to shake the beechnuts down
From a height - 'twould make you shiver,
And stain his hands a gipsy brown,
With the walnuts by the river.
"Away from school!" said this youth so free,
"Tho' all the world should praise thee,
I'd rather climb this walnut tree,
Because it's such a daisy."
The truant fell, but the stunning shock
Could not bring his proud soul under;
"I'll try again, and here I go
To get those nuts, by thunder!"
So he tightly strapp'd his bag so neat,
This soul of spunk and bravery,
And said, "If I in this get beat,
I will go back to slavery."
But he climb'd the tree, and got the nuts,
And wander'd home in the gloaming,
Well knowing, as the door he shuts,
That his pa, with rage, is foaming.
But he gets some bread, and steals to bed
With his heart fill'd up with sorrow,
And shudders, as he looks ahead,
And thinks of school to-morrow;
He knows the score of lies he'll tell
Will scarce prevent a licking,
And he sadly wonders if 'tis well
To go thus walnut picking.