As you may have read elsewhere, when I was 11-12? and uncle Leslie was at home, getting ready to die, I was briefly in charge of his gramophone. One record I remember in particular;  it must have been a ‘B’ side because it wasn’t music, or a song- it was a sort of Hill-billy poem with merely background musical accompaniment-

The sun comes up, and the sun goes down. The hands on the clock keep a-goin around.
Ah just git up and its time to lay down; life gits tedious, doan’ it.

Ah open the doah an’ the flies swarm in. Ah shet the doah an’ ah’m sweat’n agin.
Ah move too fast an’ ah crack muh shin. Jest one durn’ thing after anuthuh.

The roof’s a-leakin’ an’ the chimney leans. Thar’s a hole in the seat of mah ol’ blue jeans.
Ah et the last of the pork ‘n’beans. Seem nuthin’ doan’ last no time.

Thar’s a mouse a-chawin’ at the pantry door. He’s bin at it for a month or more.
When he gits through he shore goan’be sore. Ain’t a durn’ thing in there.

Thar’s a hound dog howlin’ all forlorn. He’s been at it since the crack of dawn.
Guess he must be a-settin’ on a thorn. Jess too tired to move over.

The water in the well’s gitt’n lower an’ lower. Ain’t had a bath fer six months or more.
But ah’ve heard it said an’ its true ah’m sure, that too much water can weaken’ yuh.
The sun comes up an’ the sun goes down. The hands on the clock keep a’goin’ around.
Ah jest git up an’ its time to lay down. Life gits tedious doan’it.

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