 |
And he worried about it.
|
It will sure give out then, if it doesn't before—
|
And he worried about it.
|
It will surely give out, so the scientists said
|
In all scientifical books he had read,
|
And the whole boundless universe then will be dead—
|
And he worried about it.
~~~ |
And some day the earth will fall into the sun—
|
And he worried about it—
|
Just as sure and as straight as if shot from a gun—
|
And he worried about it.
|
When strong gravitation unbuckles her straps,
|
"Just picture," he said, "what a fearful collapse!
|
It will come in a few million ages, perhaps"—
|
And he worried about it.
~~~
|
And the earth will become much too small for the race—
|
And he worried about it—
|
When we'll pay thirty dollars an inch for pure space—
|
And he worried about it.
|
The earth will be crowded so much, without doubt,
|
That there won't be room for one's tongue to stick out,
|
Nor room for one's thought to wander about—
|
And he worried about it.
~~~ |
And the Gulf Stream will curve, and New England grow torrider—
|
And he worried about it—
|
Than was ever the climate of southernmost Florida—
|
And he worried about it.
|
Our ice crop will be knocked into small smithereens,
|
And crocodiles block up our mowing-machines,
|
And we'll lose our fine crops of potatoes and beans—
|
And he worried about it.
~~~ |
And in less than ten thousand years, there's no doubt—
|
And he worried about it—
|
Our supply of lumber and coal will give out—
|
And he worried about it.
|
Just then the ice-age will return cold and raw,
|
Frozen men will stand stiff with arms outstretched in awe,
|
As if vainly beseeching a general thaw—
|
And he worried about it.
~~~
|
His wife took in washing—half a dollar a day—
|
He didn't worry about it—
|
His daughter sewed shirts the rude grocer to pay—
|
He didn't worry about it.
|
While his wife beat her tireless rub-a-dub-dub
|
On the washboard drum of her old wooden tub,
|
He sat by the stove and he just let her rub—
|
He didn't worry about it.
|
