Frost

Frosty round the aiges,

     Fall is shuttin’ down;

Over crost the river

     Hills are growin’ brown.

Birds hev left the orchards,

     Chestnuts fallin’ thick

Flaws sweep dark an’ spiteful

     Down on Lizzard Crick.

Frosty round the aiges,

     Nights are growin’ chill;

Boys are congregatin’

     Round the cider mill.

Winter sounds his warnin’,

     Hope he gits here quick;

Spearin’ ells an’ skatin’

     Down on Lizzard Crick!

Sept. 26, ‘99