Page 17 - Poetry-Country

Through the leaves begin to shine,
Then we know that Autumn’s prowlin’
Round the fall of Summer’s blouse,
And the wind begins a howlin’
Round the gables of the house.

When the hickory-nuts are droppin’
And the pawpaw’s getting’ soft,
When the buzzard’s wings are floppin’
For the south to sail aloft,
Then we gather in the pumpkin
And the fodder ‘gin to shuck,
And the corn begin a huskin’
In the crib to feed the stock.

When we hear the pigs a squealin’
And the snow-birds ‘gin to play,
When we see the rabbit stealin’
In beneath the stack of hay,
Then we know that Winter’s squeezin’
In old Autumn’s shoes to take,
And the ice begins a freezin’
And the snow begins to flake.

When we hear the trees a sighin’
And their arms are lookin’ bare,
When we feel the cold a flyin’
On the sharp and frosty air,
Then the wood we ‘gin a choppin’
And around the fire we meet,
Then the corn begin a poppin’
And the nuts and apples eat.

— Squire Hobus (from a Victorian Scrap Album)

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