Springtime In Gungywamp

It’s spring at last in Gungywamp an’ folks is feelin’ fine;

They is an air uv jubilee all up an’ down the line.

The winders they are open wide, the kitchen door ajar,

An’ sounds uv beatin’ mats an’ rugs they come frum near an’ far.

The women folks are cleanin’ house an’ ev’rything’s upset,

We’re eatin’ on a barrel head, most anything we get.

The carpets they are on the line, the floors all wet and bare,

The hooks are empty an’ we can’t find anything to wear.

O, Gungywamp all winter long

      Don’t open very wide;

The people they ain’t very strong

Fur pokin’ round outside.

They set around the stove an’ read,

      An’ hear the kittle sing;

But they git up tremenjus speed

      Ez soo ez it is spring!

The men are plowin’ in the field an’ yellin’ “whoa!” an’ “back!”

The girls they foller on behind fur worms down in the track;

The new-turned sod smells mighty good, the cattle they are strong

An’ seem to know the men folks want to git the work along.

The schools ain’t out but ev’ry morn, an’ nearly ev’ry night,

long the brooks thet meet the “crick” a most familiar sight

Confront the eye; the youngsters they are dodgin’ round with poles

An' gittin’ now an’ then a trout frum out the fishin’ holes.

O, Gungywamp is pretty slow

      An’ likes to doze an’ rest

When it is buried up in snow

An’ cold ez all persest.

They ain’t much goin’ on it’s true

      All winter long, I jing!

But life takes on another hue

      Ez soon ez it is spring.

The bees are buzzin’ round the hives, the trees are leavin’ out,

The croakers cry down in the marsh they’ve put Jack Frost to rout.

The hens are cluckin’ in the yards an’ scoldin’ if you dare

To put your hand upon a chick thet comes within their care.

An’ on the pantry shelf is kep’, a dreaded dose, I jing!

A bowl uv sulphur’n lasses fur the ills thet come with spring.

Thus ev’rywhere outside an’ in, all things are on the jump,

Becuz ol’ spring hez come at last an’ tackled Gungywamp.

O, Gung is a way-back place

      An’ sleeps most uv the year;

She ain’t much in the worldly race

      Fur wealth or fame I fear.

But once a year she’s wide awake,

      An’ does a Highland fling;

She gives her drowsiness the shake

      Ez soon ez it is spring.

May 5, 1911