The Harvest Days Are Over

When the harvest days are over and the fodder’s in the barn

An’ the pumkins big an’ yeller are all stacked within the sheds;

An’ the apples an’ the taters

An’ the pickle green termaters

An’ the luscious beets an’ turnips are within their winter beds;

When the harvest days are over an’ the cider’s runnin’ free

Down the brown an’ luscious cheezes out neneath the ol’ stun mill;

When the Autumn winds come sighin

An’ the loosened leaves go flyin’

An’ the partridge starts a-drummin’ on the distant wooded hill;

When the harvest days are over an’ the frost is white an’ thick

An’ the sheds are fixed fur winter an’ the stock is snug an’ warm.

When the kittle’s singin’ nightly

An’ the fire is burnin’ brightly

An’ the hens an’ turkeys sheltered frum the winter’s cold an’ storm.

Then a feelin’ uv contentment passes thro’ my rustic soul,

An’ I settle by the fireplace in the kitchen’s cozy cheer;

An’ a happiness steals o’er me

With the dreams that dance before me,

When the harvest days are over an’ the winter time is near.

Sept. 15, 1901