On Receiving A Bag Of Pears From Home

Hullo! ol’ fr’en’s’, how dew ye dew.

I’m glad ter see the likes uv yeou;

Yeou look es smooth an’ fresh an’ green

Es e’er my tickled eyes hev seen.

Frum home? Ah, yes; I might hev known

Et by the smell, the looks, the tone.

I take one out an’ rub it o’er

Then lay it on the stan’ before

My very eyes thet uster see

‘Em growing on the ol’ pear tree.

An’ now a joy akin to pain

Steals o’er me es I hear again

The stirrin’ branches by the door

Where mother’n I hev listened o’er

An’ o’er, an’ heard the whipper-will

Back uv the hen coop on the hill.

An’ while still musin’ o’er the past,

The ol’ scenes crowd my vision fast.

I see the turkeys bustlin’ round,

The hens a-wal-rin’ in the groun’,

The choppin’ block, the wood pile low,

(Fer want uv elbow grease, yer know)

An' too, I hear the apples drop,

Caused by thet squir’l I ne’er could “pop”.

But, turnin’ frum the ol’ time days

Ter present things I switch my gaze.

I take ‘em out, egg-like an’ slow,

An' lay ‘em all in one straight row.

Now then I’ll count ‘em (crunch) I guess,

But es I count the row grows less.

So I well wait till I git through,

Then there won’t be (crunch) much ter dew.

Aug. 10, ‘91

Pub. in Ct.

Valley Ad.