When the Frost is on the Punkin
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;
Oh, it's then's the times 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.
...
Aren't poems totally delightful?
Those who can put words together to make sense like this,
well, they're a talented people.
A tip of the hat to poets!
and to Autumn!
