Two brothers once, an ill-matched pair, Together dwelt (no matter where), To whom an Uncle Sam, or some one, Had left a house and farm in common. The two in principles and habits Were different as rats from rabbits; Stout Farmer North, with frugal care, Laid up provision for his heir, Not scorning with hard sun-browned hands To scrape acquaintance with his lands; Whatever thing he had to do He did, and made it pay him, too; He sold his waste stone by the pound, His drains made water-wheels spin round, His ice in summer-time he sold, His wood brought profit when 'twas cold, He dug and delved from morn till night, Strove to make profit square with right, Lived on his means, cut no great dash, And paid his debts in honest cash. On tother hand, his brother South Lived very much from hand to mouth. Played gentleman, nursed dainty hands, Borrowed North's money on his lands, And culled his morals and his graces From cock-pits, bar-rooms, fights, and races; His sole work in the farming line Was keeping droves of long-legged swine, Which brought great bothers and expenses To North in looking after fences, And, when they happened to break through, Cost him both time and temper too, For South insisted it was plain He ought to drive them home again, And North consented to the work Because he loved to buy cheap pork. Meanwhile, South's swine increasing fast; His farm became too small at last; So, having thought the matter over, And feeling bound to live in clover And never pay the clover's worth, He said one day to Brother North:-- 'Our families are both increasing, And, though we labor without ceasing, Our produce soon will be too scant To keep our children out of want; They who wish fortune to be lasting Must be both prudent and forecasting; We soon shall need more land; a lot I know, that cheaply can be bo't; You lend the cash, I'll buy the acres. And we'll be equally partakers.' Poor North, whose Anglo-Saxon blood Gave him a hankering after mud, Wavered a moment, then consented, And, when the cash was paid, repented; To make the new land worth a pin, Thought he, it must be all fenced in, For, if South's swine once get the run on 't No kind of farming can be done on 't; If that don't suit the other side, 'Tis best we instantly divide.' But somehow South could ne'er incline This way or that to run the line, And always found some new pretence 'Gainst setting the division fence; At last he said:-- 'For peace's sake, Liberal concessions I will make; Though I believe, upon my soul, I've a just title to the whole, I'll make an offer which I call Gen'rous,--we'll have no fence at all; Then both of us, whene'er we choose, Can take what part we want to use; If you should chance to need it first, Pick you the best, I'll take the worst.'