The Gungy Huckleberry Party

                                 I.

These summer days are smokin’ hot, the wells are goin’ dry,

The cattle hang around the streams where there’s a good supply;

The crops uv hay are ruther short, an’ garden sass is small,

An’ ez fur berries long the fence we don’t git none at all.

But one thing comes to cheer us up, an’ makes us dance a jig,

An’ thet’s the huckleberry crop which is uncommon big;

Out in the pastures in the shade an’ up along the Crick

The bushes they are hengin’ black an’ full ez they kin stick.

                                 II.

It makes me thingk uv other days, uv Gungy long ago,

When we all lived the simple life an’ things went sure an’ slow;

When people wuz united more, an’ life wuz full an’ free,

An’ neighbors gethered frequently to hev a juberlee.

Donation parties wuz the go in good ol’ winter days,

An’ kitchen dances an’ the like, an’ amateur plays;

An’ picnics in the summer time, an’ celebrations, too,

Camp meetin’s in the hemlock grove with lots uv folks we knew.

                                 III.

It makes me think uv Mary Jane, an’ Ebenezer Slick,

An’ huckleberry parties when we all went out to pick;

Hull fam’lies hitchin’ up their teams ez soon ez break o’ day,

An’ drivin’ to the berry lots a mile or two away.

Gay maidens with sunbonnets on, with tin pails gleamin’ bright,

An’ others with their basket lunch fur each big appetite;

Boys clad in dark blue overalls, an’ straw hats big an’ wide,

An’ laughin’ ez the wagons bumped along the countryside!

                                 IV.

Then to the huckleberry lots with pails hung to your strap,

The hosses turned out ‘neath the shade where they could doze an’ nap;

The hangin’ berries shiny black invitin’ you to pick,

The plungin’ in the underbrush where they wuz big an’ thick!

What fun, what pleasure fur a day, the lunch beneath the trees,

The coolin’ water frum the spring we drank so full an’ free!

The bright-faced maidens in the shade, the laughter light an’ gay,

All made the huckleberry trip a long-remembered day.

                                 V.

Large baskets ‘neath the wagon seats where pails were emptied till

The sun went down in glory o’er the western Gungy hill;

The journey home at eventide, a snatch or two uv song,

A kindly shout of jest to show the world wuz fur from wrong.

Then visions uv the berry pies through winter days, an’ cold

Long rows uv berries in the jars jest worth their weight in gold!

An’ huckleberry puddin’s – big, an’ huckleberry cake,

O, who would go out in the world an’ sech a joy fursake?

                                 VI.

O, Gungy with its simple life, its fields an’ pastures green,

Its hills an’ dales an’ windin’ Crick clad in its summer sheen,

Its kindly folk an’ noble hearts, there is no place I know

In all this world thet warms my heart an’ haunts my bein’ so!

An’ bright amongst its pictures rare is one takes my eye;

The huckleberry parties uv the days long drifted by;

When fathers, mothers, boys an’ girls, drove off to spend the day

To gether berries long the Crick the good ol’ fashioned way.

July 14, 1911