He sat upon a fallen log

            And heaved a long, deep sigh.

His gnarled hand fondling his old dog

            As his gaze went to the sky.

“There goes another plane,” said he-

            “A soarin’, roarin’ pest

They robs a man of privacy

An’ motor cars of rest.

“Sundownin’ ain’t the the game ut was

Since men have took to wings;

An’ life grows narrer, jist because

Of planes an’ cars an’ things,

For the planes have pinched me privit skies

An’ the cars have grabbed me earth.

An’ all the news by wireless flies;

So what’s sundownin’ worth?

“Time was when I could sit me down

Where man had left no sign,

An’ earth an’ sky for miles aroun’

For that one hour was mine.

And I could sit an’ think me thorts

An’ watch the sun go west

Without no crazy ingine’s snorts

To break into me rest.

“And as the afternoon grew late

I’d seek the haunts of men.

An’ at some lonely homestead gate

I’d sure have welcome then;

An’ tucker-bags were gladly filled,

And rest found for my back,

In change for bits of news I spilled

And gossip of the track.

“But now that wireless spreads its lies

From this and other lands,

They look on me with hard, cold eyes

An’ give with grudgin’ Hands.

It’s them that has to give me news;

And when I seek some wide,

Once silent scene, planes spoil me views,

An’ cars honk me aside.”

He sat upon a fallen log

And heaved a long, deep sigh.

“we’re agein’, me an; my ole dog,

An’ old things have to die.

Sundownin’s dead: men’s minds an’ ways

Is changin’ with a jerk.

Seems like I’ll have to end me days.

Travellin’, in search of work.”

Source:

http://www.middlemiss.org/lit/authors/denniscj/newspapers/herald/1934/works/lastsundowner.html