When The Frost Is On The Punkin

Illustration from the Childcraft Encyclopedia

When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock

And you hear the kyouck and the 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 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, bareheaded, and goes out to feed the stock,

When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock.

They's somethin kindo' harty-like about the atmusfere

When the heat of summer's over and the coolin' fall is here-

Of course we miss the flowers, and the blossums on the trees

And the mumble of the hummin'-birds and buzzin' of the bees;

But the air's so appetizin and the landscape through the haze

Of a crisp and sunny morning of airly autumn days

Is a pictur' that no painter has the colorin' to mock-

When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock.

The husky rusty russel of the tossels of the corn

And the raspin' of the tangled leaves, as golden as the morn,

The stubble in the furries-kindo' lonesome-like, but still

A preachin' sermons to us of the barns they growed to fill,

The strawstack in the medder, and the reaper in the shed;

The hosses in theyr stalls below-the clover overhead!-

O it sets my hart a-clickin like the tickin of a clock,

When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock!

Then your apples all gethered, and all the ones a feller keeps

Is poured around the celler-floor in red and yeller heaps,

And your cider-makin's over and your wimmern folks is through

With their mince and apple-butter and theyr souse and sausage too!

I don't know how to tell it-but if sich a thing could be

As the Angels wantin' boardin' and they'd call around on me-

I'd want to 'commodate'em-all the whole-indurin' flock-

When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock!

Pumpkin Field in New Haven, Indiana

"The Hoosier Poet"

James Whitcomb Riley (1849-1916) was born in Greenfield, Indiana.

He later moved to Indianapolis. Riley is best known for his

 delightful children's poems like "Little Orphant Annie"

and the dialect prose of "When The Frost Is On The Punkin."

Although he remained a confirmed bachelor with no children of

his own, Riley loved children and writing his poems to entertain them.