When
Gungawamp gets all snowed in, as often is the case,
You’d
think that she would sartin’ be an awful lonesome place;
You’d
think the town would hide its head beneath its frozen wing,
An’
not wake up to life ag’in ‘till come the early spring.
But
that is where you’d be mistook, if that was what you thought,
Becuz
the folks o’ Gungawamp ain’t people of the sort
To
settle down an’ wait for spring. When they’re cut off by snow
Is
just the time they’re wakin’ up, an’ things are on the go.
A
city feller once remarked he thought ol’ Gungy town
In
summer time was just the place to go an’ settle down.
When
there was fishin’ on the Crick, when lilies were in bloom,
An’
all the woods an’ medder lands were scented with perfume;
When
you could roam the country o’er, an’ ev’rything was green,
A
country spot more beautiful he said he’d never seen.
“But
when it comes to wintertime, with snow waist high,” said he,
“Without
a railroad or a show, no Gungawamp for me!”
You
see the feller didn’t know what he was talkin’ ‘bout,
He
didn’t know the fun we hev when we are shut from out
The
great big world for days an’ days, the comforts an’ delights
We
find around the open fires on shut-in winter nights.
Our
winters here in Gungywamp it allus seems to me
Are
way ahead of summertime we are so still an’ free;
Ain’t
crowded none by city folks, don’t have to hustle so,
An’
there’s a feelin’ of repose when buried up with snow!
I reckylect
a blizzard once that held three days or so,
A-snowin’
night an’ day it seemed, as fast as it could snow;
The
roads were blocked, the fences topped, an’ all that we could see
Was
snow packed round the winder panes as tight as it could be;
The
children they was scart to death, afeared that never more
Would
they be able to proceed outside the kitchen door,
But
pa just laughed an’ took his spade an’ tunneled to the shed,
Then
to the barn an’ done his chores while all the stock was fed.
Next
mornin’ I waked with a start by hearin’ shouts of glee,
An’
lookin’ from my winder pain it was a sight to see!
A
hundred men an’ boys were there, an’ fifty yokes of steers
A-trampin’
out the buried roads with shovels an’ with cheers.
A
string of fifty yokes of steers who entered in the fun
As
though they understood the job, an’ liked it ev’ry one.
We
joined the crowd an’ ended there in front of Public Hall,
Where
women handy by had coffee’n’ sandwiches for all.
Then
follered days an’ nights of fun, house parties by the score,
An’
not a hitch in nightly fun at Stoke’s grocery store.
The
women had their sewin’ bees, an’ Friday nights the same
We
held the meetings with the Lord an’ praised his holy name.
The
goin’ was a little hard, but what is that to those
Who
live an honest, temp’rate life, with strength to cope with woes?
An’
then the nights around the fires apples an’ popcorn;
No
time for feelin’ in the dumps, no cause to feel forlorn!
O,
Gungywamp in blizzard time is just the place for me;
She
is a host within herself, as comfy as kin be.
With
taters in the cellar bins, an’ pork an’ hams galore
An’
milk an’ eggs an’ vegterbuls, O, who would ask for more?
Let
blizzards blow, an’ snowstorms snow, let all the world be hid,
We’ll
git along with dance an’ song as we have allus did.
We’ll
break our roads, an’ tote our loads, an’ laugh at country woes,
An’
when in spring the bluebirds sing, we’ll blossom like a rose!
Feb.
14, ’10
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