Over the Hill To the Poorhouse

 

Over the hill to the poorhouse
Over the hill to the poorhouse

To the poorhouse I'm trudgin' my weary way
A woman of seventy and only a trifle grey
I am smart and chipper for all the years I'm told
As any other woman who's only half as old
To the poorhouse I can't quite make it clear
To the poorhouse it seems so horrid queer
Many a step I've taken toilin' to and fro
This the sort of journey I never thought to go
Over the hill to the poorhouse
Over the hill to the poorhouse

What's the use of heapin' a pauper’s shame
Am I lazy crazy, blind or lame
True I'm not so supple nor so awful stout
But charity's not a favor that one can live without
Once I was handsome, I was upon my soul
Once my cheeks were roses, my eyes black as coal
But I can't remember hearing people say
Of any kind of reason that I was in their way
Over the hill to the poorhouse
Over the hill to the poorhouse

So they have shirked and slighted me and shifted me about
They well night soured me and wore my old heart out
Still I born up pretty well and wasn't much put down
‘Til Charlie called the poor master and put me on the town
To the poorhouse my children dear goodbye
Many a night I've watched you when only God was nigh
But God will judge between us and I will always pray
That you will not suffer the half I do today
Over the hill to the poorhouse
Over the hill to the poorhouse

Will Carleton's most famous poem about the inhumane treatment
of the elderly. The poor house still stands in Hudson, Michigan