ON THE FARM
Chestnut Hunting
It was after four, one Friday when
We all rejoiced at school-week end,
And plans were made for Saturday roves
Among the trees of chestnut groves.
And half that night we thought of fun
That we would have when day begun;
So up we got with early sun
To get our chores real quickly done.
The cross-roads by the old mill-dam
Was where we formed our happy band
Of laughing girls and whistling boys,
Who vied their chums in making noise.
Blushing maids in tam-o’-shanters,
And teasing lads with roguish banters
All romped away one happy crew
To where we knew the best nuts grew.
What luck to be a boy or girl,
When leaves begin to brown and curl!
What joy it is to feel the thrill
That’s in the air from hill to hill!
Tramping over knolls and dales,
We saw a woods fenced in with rails;
And there tree limbs were bending down
Thick with burs all big and round.
Then we raced by rocky juts,
Until we spied the brownish nuts
Peeping down from sticky burs
Smooth inside as softest furs.
Boys shook boughs and nuts rained down
Rolling over frost-bit ground:
Those whose hands the burs did bruise
Upon them stamped with heavy shoes.
Some stood on the ground below
So their clubs to better throw:
Girls with sacks from flour mill
Picked enough each bag to fill.