“Fall On The Crick”

Frosty round the aiges now

     Uv dear ol Lizzard Crick;

Red an’ yeller foliage

     Comin’ fast an’ thick.

Turkles they are diggin’ deep

     Where the banks are low;

Bullfrogs they are duckin’ frum

     Winter’s ice an’ snow.

Swallers they are swarmin’ now

     Fur their autumn flight;

Millions in the air awing

     Make a wondrous sight.

Ducks are settlin’ ‘neath the hills

     Where the water’s warm;

North’ard skies are stirrin’ up

     An October storm.

Bob White whistles on the marsh

     Callin’ to his mate;

Squirrel he is stockin’ nuts

     On his winter plate.

Herons foldin’ up their laigs

     Fur the south’ard flight;

Pick’rel hunt fur warmer holes

     Deep down out o’ sight.

Frosty round the aiges now

     Marshes fiery red;

Racoon busy ez a bee

     Fixin’ up his bed.

Winter’s comin’ on apace

     Chill is in the air;

But all roun’ ol’ Gungywamp

     Joy is ev’rywhere.

Sept. 30, 1912