Riley Farm-Rhymes   By: James Whitcomb Riley (1849-1916)

By James Whitcomb Riley

Inscribed with all Grateful Esteem

TO THE GOOD OLD FASHIONED PEOPLE

The deadnin' and the thicket's jes' a b'ilin' full o' June, From the rattle o' the cricket, to the yaller hammer's tune; And the catbird in the bottom and the sap suck on the snag, Seems's ef they cain't od rot 'em! jes' do nothin' else but brag!

There' music in the twitter o' the bluebird and the jay, And that sassy little critter jes' a peckin' all the day; There' music in the "flicker," and there' music in the thrush, And there' music in the snicker o' the chipmunk in the brush!

There' music all around me! And I go back in a dream Sweeter yit than ever found me fast asleep: And, in the stream That used to split the medder wher' the dandylions growed, I stand knee deep, and redder than the sunset down the road.

CONTENTS

BROOK SONG, THE CANARY AT THE FARM, A CLOVER, THE COUNTRY PATHWAY, A GRIGGSBY'S STATION HOW JOHN QUIT THE FARM JUNE KNEE DEEP IN JUNE "MYLO JONES'S WIFE" OLD FASHIONED ROSES OLD MAN'S NURSERY RHYME OLD OCTOBER OLD WINTERS ON THE FARM ORCHARD LANDS OF LONG AGO, THE ROMANCIN' SEPTEMBER DARK SONG OF LONG AGO, A TALE OF THE AIRLY DAYS, A THOUGHTS FER THE DISCURAGED FARMER TREE TOAD, THE UP AND DOWN OLD BRANDYWINE WET WEATHER TALK WHEN EARLY MARCH SEEMS MIDDLE MAY WHEN THE FROST IS ON THE PUNKIN WHEN THE GREEN GITS BACK IN THE TREES WHERE THE CHILDREN USED TO PLAY WORTERMELON TIME

RILEY FARM RHYMES

THE ORCHARD LANDS OF LONG AGO

The orchard lands of Long Ago! O drowsy winds, awake, and blow The snowy blossoms back to me, And all the buds that used to be! Blow back along the grassy ways Of truant feet, and lift the haze Of happy summer from the trees That trail their tresses in the seas Of grain that float and overflow The orchard lands of Long Ago!

Blow back the melody that slips In lazy laughter from the lips That marvel much if any kiss Is sweeter than the apple's is. Blow back the twitter of the birds The lisp, the titter, and the words Of merriment that found the shine Of summer time a glorious wine That drenched the leaves that loved it so, In orchard lands of Long Ago!

O memory! alight and sing Where rosy bellied pippins cling, And golden russets glint and gleam, As, in the old Arabian dream, The fruits of that enchanted tree The glad Aladdin robbed for me! And, drowsy winds, awake and fan My blood as when it overran A heart ripe as the apples grow In orchard lands of Long Ago!

WHEN THE FROST IS ON THE PUNKIN

When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock, And you hear the kyouck and gobble of the struttin' turkey cock, And the clackin' of the guineys, and the cluckin' of the hens, And the rooster's hallylooyer as he tiptoes on the fence; O, it's then's the times a feller is a feelin' at his best, With the risin' sun to greet him from a night of peaceful rest, As he leaves the house, bare headed, and goes out to feed the stock, When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock.