Thank you Carl, It has been a long time since I had read the poem. Jim O'Neall [email protected] "Searching the past; Looking to the future" -----Original Message----- From: Carl English Porter <[email protected]> To: [email protected] <[email protected]> Date: Thursday, November 26, 1998 4:18 AM Subject: Re: [ONEALL-L] The Wallet > > >[email protected] wrote: > >> In a message dated 11/25/98 4:48:00 PM Pacific Standard Time, [email protected] >> writes: >> >> << HAPPY THANKSGIVING TO ALL......WHAT A BLESSING TO >> LIVE IN THIS WONDERFUL COUNTRY. >> >> >> Well said, >> >> And God Bless America. >> >> Amen. >> >> Bob O'Neal > > I have to agree. There's no place like home! I believe I've fallen in with >a bunch of romantics! Well, make room for yet another. Thank you Jill!!! > > As a Hoosier, I enjoy a special literary background. They told a story about >a speaker in Indiana who asked all the other authors in the audience to stand. >Everybody stood! Looking again, he spied one elderly gentleman still sitting. >Addressing that man, he said, "Are you the only one in this audience who has not >been published?" The fellow next to him explained "Oh he's an author too! He's >just deaf!" > > When I was new to the net, I ventured to share a bit of poetry with this >list. I had no idea that this was a no no. All were tolerant. No one complained, >(at least, to me.) As thanksgiving has arrived, I feel again the need to share a >bit. You must realize that for me, this is a part of the genealogy picture. My >Auntie Mayme made her living reciting poetry in the public schools. Since a large >contingent of O'Nealls lived in IN, this was a part of their experience. In this >bit, the celebration of an agrarian culture is not so distant from all our >ancestor's experiences. It will be familiar to many. If it annoys you please >complain to me, (off list,) that I may not err yet again. and delete! BTW, >Auntie Mayme sat in the poet's lap as a baby! > > WHEN THE FROST IS ON THE PUNKIN > By James Whitcomb Riley > > 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'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. > > 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. > > 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. > > Then your apples all is gethered, and the ones a feller keeps > Is poured around the celler-floor in red and yeller heaps; > And your cider makin's over, and your wimmernfolks is through > With their mince and apple-butter, and theyr souse and saussage, too! > I don't know how to tell it--but if 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 endurin' flock-- > When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock! > >May God make us ever mindful of our manifest blessings. Happy Thanksgiving Day! >Carl >