All Day She Hurried To Get Through, The Same As Lots Of Wimmin Do; Sometimes At Night Her Husban' Said, "Ma, Ain'T You Goin' To Come To Bed?" And Then She'd Kinder Give A Hitch, And Pause Half Way Between A Stitch, And Sorter Sigh, And Say That She Was Ready As She'd Ever Be, She Reckoned. And So The Years Went One By One, An' Somehow She Was Never Done; An' When The Angel Said, As How "Mis' Smith, It's Time You Rested Now," She Sorter Raised Her Eyes To Look A Second, As A Stitch She Took; "All Right, I'm Comin' Now," Says She, "I'm Ready As I'll Ever Be, I Reckon."