The rust may kill the ripening wheat,
The chinch bugs eat the corn;
The sleet may leave the apple trees
Of buds and blossoms shorn;
A blizzard come along and lash
The peach buds with his tail,
But there is always one great crop
That's never known to fail.
The frost may suck the oranges,
And squeeze the lemons dry;
And make the Rocky cantaloupes
All wither up and die;
Potatoes may be very small,
And very few in a hill.
And yet there will be one big crop
That you can count on still.
Bananas may be black or green,
And never turn to gold;
With worms the chestnuts, prunes and plums
Be full as they can hold;
The peanuts all may peter out
And pop-corn fail to shoot.
But one crop every year is sure
To come to flower and fruit.
The cholera may kill the hogs,
And all the chickens, too;
The murrain take the cattle off,
From Gentile and from Jew;
The garden stuff may be done up
By cyclone, drouth, or rain,
And yet there's one crop can't be hurt
By hail or hurricane.
Account for this prodigious fact
In any way you may;
It has been true in all the world
Since Adam's natal day;
It needs no syllogism fine
In logic of the schools,
To prove that one crop never falls___
The crop of blooming fools.
For folly is man's natural bent__
Did not A-dam begin it?
But once a year a wise man comes;
A fool is born each minute.
No matter then what seasons bring,
Or who the empire rules,
Until old Gabriel toots his horn
There'll be a crop of fools.
__J. M. Cavaness.
J. M. Cavaness
(Chanute: Tribune Pub. Co. 1913)