When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock, |
And you hear the kyouck and gobble of the struttin' turkey-cock, |
And the clackin' of the guineys, and the cluckin' of the hens, |
And the rooster's hallylooyer as he tiptoes on the fence; |
O, it's then the time a feller is a-feelin' at his best, |
With the risin' sun to greet him from a night of peaceful rest, |
As he leaves the house, bareheaded, and goes out to feed the stock, |
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock. |
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They's something kindo' harty-like about the atmusfere |
When the heat of summer's over and the coolin' fall is here— |
Of course we miss the flowers, and the blossoms on the trees, |
And the mumble of the hummin'-birds and buzzin' of the bees; |
But the air's so appetizin'; and the landscape through the haze |
Of a crisp and sunny morning of the airly autumn days |
Is a pictur' that no painter has the colorin' to mock— |
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock. |
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The husky, rusty russel of the tossels of the corn, |
And the raspin' of the tangled leaves as golden as the morn; |
The stubble in the furries—kindo' lonesome-like, but still |
A-preachin' sermuns to us of the barns they growed to fill; |
The strawstack in the medder, and the reaper in the shed; |
The hosses in theyr stalls below—the clover overhead!— |
O, it sets my hart a-clickin' like the tickin' of a clock, |
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock. |
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Then your apples all is gethered, and the ones a feller keeps |
Is poured around the cellar-floor in red and yaller heaps; |
And your cider-makin's over, and your wimmern-folks is through |
With theyr mince and apple-butter, and theyr souse and sausage too!... |
I don't know how to tell it—but ef such a thing could be |
As the angels wantin' boardin', and they'd call around on me— |
I'd want to 'commodate 'em—all the whole-indurin' flock— |
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock. |
Austen's punkin....Samuel's punkin...
Daddy's punkin...
Mommy's punkin...
2 comments:
I've heard that poem before. Will have to share it with my boys!
Love the pumpkins!!
Bravo! Loved the poem!
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