Thanksgivin’ Days

Thanksgivin’ days in Gungawamp, O, them’s the days for me,

When all the Autumn’s work is done, the crops are gathered in;

When all the sheds are timbered up ez snug ez snug kin be,

An’ vegetables are loomin’ high in ev’ry suller bin.

When barns are full uv fodder fur the dreary winter day,

The wood-pile higher than your head beside the kitchen door;

The farmin’ tools uv summer time all snugly laid away

The carpet laid fur winter on the big ol’ kitchen floor.

Thanksgivin’ days in Gungawamp, they mean a lot to me

The busy preparations, an’ the healthy atmosphere;

The wise ol’ turkey gobbler roostin’ high upon the tree,

The gruntin’ in the pigsty fur the killin’ time is near.

The rich an’ luscious sparerib an’ the sausage pipin’ hot,

The shiny fat fur doughnuts sech ez mother allus fries;

The hams from out the smokehouse, ah, they allus hit the spot,

An’ luscious mince an’ pumpkin’ when you come to mention pies.

Thanksgivin’ days in Gungawamp jest beat all other days

The sumpt’ous dinner isn’t all, although it’s mighty fine;

The open fire on the hearth, it’s dancin’ hick’ry blaze

The meller parlor organ an’ the old-time songs divine.

The cheery, healthy atmosphere, that’s what appeals to me,

The ruddy cheek, the springy step, the bright an’ sparklin’ eye;

The ol’ home flavor in the air, the sweet simplicity –

Thanksgivin’ days in Gungawamp, O, may they never die!

Nov. 1, ‘09