There were hardships you may guess, and enough of weary toil
For the first few years, but then it was so grand
To see the corn and wheat waving o'er the virgin soil,
And two stout and loving hearts went hand in hand.
But Mollie took the fever when our second babe was born,
And she lay upon the bed as white as snow;
And my idle cultivator lay a rusting in the corn;
And the doctor said poor Mollie she must go.
Now I never prayed before, but I fell upon my knees,
And I prayed as never any preacher prayed;
And Mollie always said that it broke the fell disease;
And I truly think the Lord He sent us aid:
For the fever it was broken, and she took a bit of food,
And O then I went upon my knees again;
And I never cried before,--and I never thought I could,--
But my tears they fell upon her hand like rain.
And I think the Lord has blessed us ever since I prayed the prayer,
For my crops have never wanted rain or dew:
And Mollie often said in the days of debt and care,
"Don't you worry, John, the Lord will help us through."
For the "pesky," painted Sioux, in the fall of 'sixty-two,
Came a-whooping on their ponies o'er the plain,
And they killed my pigs and cattle, and I tell you it looked "blue,"
When they danced around my blazing stacks of grain.
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