WHEN THE FROST IS ON THE PUMPKIN’
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 guiney’s, and the cluckin’ of the hens, And the rooster’s hallylcoyer as he tiptoes on the fence, O, it’s then’s the time 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, bareheaded, and goes out to feed the stock, When the frost is on the punkin’ and the fodder’s in the shock. James Whitcomb Riley.