"The Old Oaken Bucket" Poem and Parody

One of my favorite discoveries of my teenage years was in a poetry book. It was the parody of a famous American poem from the early 1800s.

Here's the original poem, for essential context:

The Old Oaken Bucket
     by Samuel Woodworth, 1817

“How dear to this heart are the scenes of my childhood,
When fond recollection presents them to view!
The orchard, the meadow, the deep-tangled wild-wood,
And every loved spot which my infancy knew!
The wide-spreading pond, and the mill that stood by it,
The bridge, and the rock where the cataract fell,
The cot of my father, the dairy-house nigh it,
And e’en the rude bucket that hung in the well-
The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket,
The moss-covered bucket which hung in the well.

That moss-covered vessel I hailed as a treasure,
For often at noon, when returned from the field,
I found it the source of an exquisite pleasure,
The purest and sweetest that nature can yield.
How ardent I seized it, with hands that were glowing,
And quick to the white-pebbled bottom it fell;
Then soon, with the emblem of truth overflowing,
And dripping with coolness, it rose from the well
The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket,
The moss-covered bucket arose from the well.

How sweet from the green mossy brim to receive it,
As poised on the curb it inclined to my lips!
Not a full blushing goblet could tempt me to leave it,
The brightest that beauty or revelry sips.
And now, far removed from the loved habitation,
The tear of regret will intrusively swell,
As fancy reverts to my father’s plantation,
And sighs for the bucket that hangs in the well
The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket,
The moss-covered bucket that hangs in the well!”

(For full parody appreciation, read it out loud slowly and savoringly. Then...)

(It made me cry I laughed so hard reading this to my brother and sisters 20-some years ago.)

The Old Oaken Bucket
(As revised by the Board of Health)
     by Anonymous

With what anguish of mind I remember my childhood,
   Recalled in the light of knowledge since gained,
The malarious farm, the wet fungus-grown wildwood,
   The chills then contracted that since have remained;
The scum-covered duck-pond, the pig-sty close by it,
   The ditch where the sour-smelling house drainage fell,
The damp, shaded dwelling, the foul barnyard nigh it —
   But worse than all else was that terrible well,
And the old oaken bucket, the mold-crusted bucket,
   The moss-covered bucket that hung in the well.

Just think of it! Moss on the vessel that lifted
   The water I drank in the days called to mind;
Ere I knew what professors and scientists gifted
   In the waters of wells by analysis find;
The rotting wood-fiber, the oxide of iron,
   The algae, the frog of unusual size,
The water as clear as the verses of Byron,
   Are things I remember with tears in my eyes.


Oh, had I but realized in time to avoid them —
   The dangers that lurked in that pestilent draft —
I’d have tested for organic germs and destroyed them
   With potassic permanganate ere I had quaffed.
Or perchance I’d have boiled it, and afterwards strained it
   Through filters of charcoal and gravel combined;
Or, after distilling, condensed and regained it
   In potable form with its filth left behind.


How little I knew of the enteric fever
   Which lurked in the water I ventured to drink,
But since I’ve become a devoted believer
   In the teachings of science, I shudder to think.
And now, far removed from the scenes I’m describing,
   The story of warning to others I tell,
As memory reverts to my youthful imbibing
   And I gag at the thought of that terrible well,
And the old oaken bucket, the fungus-grown bucket,
   In fact, the slop-bucket — that hung in the well.

(That creative "Anonymous" never fails to inspire me!)

I fondly recall the original from some volume or other of my youth.  Perhaps the "Poems that tell a story" volume of Childcraft?  I think my sister still has that one, and possibly a song volume, also.  Some good ones in the Childcraft volume, for sure - "The Highwayman" by Alfred Noyes is one that I still remember a good bit of from memory.  Pretty certain Longfellow's "Hiawatha" was in there, too.

I think I was probably in my late teens or even a young adult when I came across the snarky parody version, and found it as amusing as you did.

Thanks for the memories of a happy childhood, probably spent with my nose in a book too much of the time.  We didn't have a lot when I was a kid, but my parents made sure we had good literature and library cards.

Hi:

I loved the parody of the Old Wooden Bucket. Do you know when it was written?