Cider Days in Gungawamp

                                 I.

O, summer days in Gungawamp are more than passin’ sweet,

With bluest skies above an’ greenest grass beneath your feet,

An’ winter days in Gungy, too, are wonderful to view,

With all the world a perfect white ‘neath skies of grayish blue.

An’ warm spring days an’ autumn days, each hev their wondrous charm,

Fact any day’s a perfec’ day upon a perfect farm,

But seems to me I never found no days as blest, I jing!

Ez cider days in Gungywamp with all the joys they bring.

                                 II.

It ain’t so much the apple pile beneath the orchard trees,

That glistens in the autumn sun a-temptin’ uv the bees,

Although it makes a picture fair, its yellow, green an’ red,

A big bouquet upon the grass when other flowers are dead

An’ tempts the boys who go to school to fill their pockets all.

An' treat the blushin’ girls who wait outside the orchard wall.

They’re welcomed at the cider pile, for those are country ways,

All makin’ up the perfect joy uv Gungy cider days.

                                 III.

It ain’t so much the grindin’ cogs uv Miller’s ol’ gray mill

Thet turns all day behind the hoss, jest underneath the hill,

Where pulp runs down into the cheese all ready fur the press

Where run the juices in the tub a brown an’ golden mess!

It ain’t so much the foamy tub thet holds the juices rare

Where freckled boys with golden straws kneel most unceasin’ there,

But all contribute to the scene on which we like to gaze,

These little things all help to make the golden cider days!

                                 IV.

The ol’ hoss walkin’ round the track led by the swingin’ beam,

A gait ez stiddy ez a clock, reliable ez steam;

The pourin’ uv the apples in the hopper deep an’ wide,

The busy workmen down below, the presses true an’ tried.

The smashin’ uv the apple juice thet ushers from the cheese,

The ready “givin’” back an’ forth, the youngsters on their knees

The fillin’ uv the kegs an’ casks, the rough an’ ready ways,

But these ain’t all the fun there is in Gungy cider days.

                                 V.

There are the nights around the fire, the stories to be told,

Pop-corns an’ cider by the quart, an’ apples red an’ gold;

The apple parin’s, huskin’ bees, donations an’ surprise,

An’ best uv all the cider put mother’s big mince pies!

Ah, who would leave ol’ Gungy now, the best uv all the year?

Ol’ Gungywamp in cider ttime, with all its warmth an’ cheer!

The warm spring days, an’ summer days an’ other days are fine,

But cider days in Gungywamp are jest the days fur mine!

Oct. 31, 1910

                   First.

“I don’t want none of your high-priced wines,

     Uv which I’ve heard folks tell;

The fruit thet grows upon the vines

     Is only fit fur jell.

Champagne or cocktails, whiskey, rum

     To me ain’t any use;

All I desire right here to hum,

     Is Gungy apple juice!”

                         Bige Miller’s Cider Song

          Last.

“A little cider now an’ then

Is relished by the best o’ men;

A little more is better still

If made in Bijah’s cider mill.

Draw up around the open fire

An' see who is the biggest liar.

The night outside is cold ez sin,

But we don’t care becuz we’re in!

                       Hank Stubb’s Chorus