Poem about the outhouse describes why it was the best seat in the house.
There's a little house here on the farm That's used by one and all.
It isn't much to look at, in fact it's very small.
It has no picture windows, no welcome on the door.
No heat inside to keep it warm, NQ carpet on the floor.
There's only one seat in the house, It's made of old oak lumber.
But still it serves its purpose well, Been used by quite a number.
Everyone who visits me must go to see the place And when small children want to go Sometimes it's quite a race.
No matter what the weather be,
Sunshine, rain or snow
If you get the urge to see the place
Then down the path you go.
When nature gives her warning, as she does to everyone, We grab our coat no matter what
And down the path we run.
Down to the little house again, nestled among the trees, Sometimes the wind is howling cold and you think you're gonna freeze.
What is so popular about this house
Oh, surely you must know,
A little outhouse on the farm is a place we all must go.
Back in 1955 a call went out from the editors of the then Capper’s Weekly asking for readers to send in articles on true pioneers. Hundreds of letters came pouring in from early settlers and their children, many now in their 80s and 90s, and from grandchildren of settlers, all with tales to tell. So many articles were received that a decision was made to create a book, and in 1956, the first My Folks title – My Folks Came in a Covered Wagon – hit the shelves. Nine other books have since been published in the My Folks series, all filled to the brim with true tales from Capper’s readers, and we are proud to make those stories available to our growing online community.
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