The Old Cider Pile

Out yender in the orchard like a heap uv shinin’ gold

The cider pile is lyin’ in the brisk October cold.

There are “Russets” brown, an’ “Pippins” there are “Baldwin smooth an’ red

There are “Pleasants”, “Snows” an’ “Greenin’s” mingled in this harvest bed.

There are “Seek-no-furthers” mellow, there are “Punkin Sweets” galore,

There are “Northern Spies” and “Posters” sweet an’ dainty to the core.

There are “Lady’s Cheeks” an’ “Nonesuch”, an’ a dozen more I ween,

Jest to add a wealth uv color an’ uv beauty to the scene.

Out yender in the orchard is the place I like to go,

Where the cider pile is lyin’ in the bright October glow;

Where the children come a-troopin’ with a merry laugh an’ shout,

Where they leave the scene uv conquest with their pockets bulgin’ out.

Out yender in the orchard where we ol’ gray headed men

Become ez little children round the cider pile agin!

Where to pass an hour each mornin’ I would walk a weary mile,

Out yender in the orchard round the golden cider pile.

Oct. 13, 1901