Pick’rel In Winter

I know where spreads a silv’ry stream,

     A stretch uv pure delight;

Between two lines uv ghostly hills,

     Now frosty, cold and white.

I see the miles uv glist’nin’ snow,

     I hear the forest wail;

I hear the rumble uv the ice

     Which thunders down the vale.

Mayhap you think it’s lonely thire,

     An' wouldn’t keer tur go;

Where lies a foot or two uv ice

     An’ mebbie two uv snow.

Eft het is what yew think, my friend,

     In town so snug an’ nice,

I guess yew never yit hev pulled

     A pick’rel threw the ice.

Nov. 8, ‘98