The Mudcat Café TM
Thread #14268   Message #121838
Posted By: katlaughing
07-Oct-99 - 05:50 PM
Thread Name: Favorite Fall Songs
Subject: Lyr Add: WHEN THE FROST IS ON THE PUNKIN (J Riley)
That was great, Art. Sorry to hear about the author, though.

Just in case anyone wants all of the words to the poem I mentioned:

WHEN THE FROST IS ON THE PUNKIN (sic)
James Whitcomb Riley

When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock
And you hear the kyouck and the gobble of the struttin' turkey-cock,
And the rooster's hallylooyer as he tiptoes on the fence;
O, it's then's 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 fodder's in the shock.

They's something kind o' harry-like about the atrnusfere
When the heat of summer's over and the coolin' fall is here--
Of course we miss the flowers, and the blossums on the trees,
And the mumble of the hummingbirds 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 picture that no painter has the colorin' to mock--
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock.

The husky, rusty russel of the tossers of the corn,
And the raspin' of the tangled leaves as golden as the morn;
The stubble in the furries-kind c@ 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 bosses in theyr stalls below-the clover overhead!-
0, 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

Then your apples all is gethered, and the ones a feller keeps
Is poured around the cellar-floor in red and yeller heaps;
And your cidermakin's over and your wimmern-folks is through
With theyr mince and apple-butter, and theyr souse and sausage too!
I don't know bow to tell it-but ef sich 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!