Half Wit

The Government boys said John was stingy when he paid his crew,

And so they sent a man to see—give John an interview.

The man found John just sitting, milking, in the stanchions there,

And pulling out his pad and pen, he took the offered chair.

“It’s come to our attention, John,” the agent said to him,

“That you’re not giving proper wages when you pay your men.”

John just shrugged and kept on milking—spat a wad of ‘chew’,

“Wal, I’m here Mister,” Johnny said. “And glad to talk it through.”

“Just list your men,” the agent said. “And what you pay each one.

And I’ll decide what we should do the moment you are done.”

“Okay, Mister,” Johnny said, his voice real calm and slow,

“I’ll tell you everything you want and then I hope you'll go.”

The agent made a face, and clicked his pen. “Alright. Let’s start.”

Then Johnny smiled. “Well, first we’ve got my hired man named Bart.”

“Bart’s been with me for three years, he seems to be content.

I pay him six C’s every week with free board and free rent.”

"The cook has been here 18 months, each week she gets 5 C’s,

And just like Bart, free room and board, she certainly seems pleased.”

“And any more?” the agent said. “You have to name each one.”

“There is another man,” John said. “Who’s really not much fun.”

The agent clicked his pen. “I need to hear about him. Tell!”

John shrugged again, said, “You’re the boss, but he is a dumbbell.

He’s really just a half-wit, Sir. He works a longer day.

When all the others stop and rest, he’s out there ‘makin’ hay’!"

"For eighteen hours each day, he toils, does all but 10 percent.

He makes about ten bucks a week, pays his own food and rent.

To keep him happy, Sir, I buy him bourbon once a week,

Just why he stays around? It smacks of something called ‘mystique’."

The agent perked up at John’s words. Here’s what he sought to find!

A criminal departure from what’s normal, in his mind.

He made a note upon his pad and closed it with a snap.

Beneath his breath he muttered, “Man I’d like to meet this sap!”

“Yes! That’s my guy!” he said aloud. “Just call the half-wit, please?”

“Wal, that’s an easy one,” said John. “That guy you want is me!”

Mondays do get knocked a lot,

With poetry, we three besought,

To try to make the week begin,

With gentle thoughts--perhaps a grin?

So Jenny and Delores, we,

Now post our poems for you to see.

And when you’ve read what we have brought,

Did we help? Or did we not . . .

Next week, amid the toil and strife,

We'll talk about this modern life!