tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5526768924178592295.post492652580088821841..comments2024-03-28T19:35:24.365-07:00Comments on Rural Revolution: The frost is on the pumpkin....Patrice Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06012022335047974670noreply@blogger.comBlogger2125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5526768924178592295.post-51516007523392354832010-10-23T18:25:41.644-07:002010-10-23T18:25:41.644-07:00I now have a poem to add to my favorites! Thanks ...I now have a poem to add to my favorites! Thanks to Christin for sharing it.<br /><br />MelodyAnonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5526768924178592295.post-53975622869143606582010-10-22T05:24:24.599-07:002010-10-22T05:24:24.599-07:00This reminds me of my favorite James Whitcomb Rile...This reminds me of my favorite James Whitcomb Riley poem--<br /><br /><br />WHEN the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock,<br />And you hear the kyouck and gobble of the struttin' turkey-cock,<br />And the clackin' of the guineys, and the cluckin' of the hens,<br />And the rooster's hallylooyer as he tiptoes on the fence;<br />O, it's then's the times a feller is a-feelin' at his best,<br />With the risin' sun to greet him from a night of peaceful rest,<br />As he leaves the house, bareheaded, and goes out to feed the stock,<br />When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock.<br /> <br />They's something kindo' harty-like about the atmusfere<br />When the heat of summer's over and the coolin' fall is here--<br />Of course we miss the flowers, and the blossums on the trees,<br />And the mumble of the hummin'-birds and buzzin' of the bees;<br />But the air's so appetizin'; and the landscape through the haze<br />Of a crisp and sunny morning of the airly autumn days<br />Is a pictur' that no painter has the colorin' to mock--<br />When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock.<br /> <br />The husky, rusty russel of the tossels of the corn,<br />And the raspin' of the tangled leaves, as golden as the morn;<br />The stubble in the furries--kindo' lonesome-like, but still<br />A-preachin' sermuns to us of the barns they growed to fill;<br />The strawstack in the medder, and the reaper in the shed;<br />The hosses in theyr stalls below--the clover over-head!--<br />O, it sets my hart a-clickin' like the tickin' of a clock,<br />When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock!<br /> <br />Then your apples all is gethered, and the ones a feller keeps<br />Is poured around the celler-floor in red and yeller heaps;<br />And your cider-makin' 's over, and your wimmern-folks is through<br />With their mince and apple-butter, and theyr souse and saussage, too! ...<br />I don't know how to tell it--but ef sich a thing could be<br />As the Angels wantin' boardin', and they'd call around on me--<br />I'd want to 'commodate 'em--all the whole-indurin' flock--<br />When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock!Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com