When the Frost is on the Punkin

詹’斯’’’’’’賴’(1849’1916)生’’’’’那’’’’菲爾’’’’那裏’完’’公學’成’’’“馬’菲六’講’”(’’當’’們’’’’’最高學銜)’’’’’’’那’’’爲’’商標’’’參’’賣藥’巡’’’’’’’路’收集民間文學’’察’’’’方言’’’成’’’’那’’報’’’’’’’l 877’’’’說’’’’’’’首據稱’’’華’’’’’’’’詩而’解’’接著’’’’’’’那’’斯日報’’首次用’’’那方言創’’’’’’日’生’’詩’’’中’’部分詩’曾’’1883’’’本’’’’’老’’’’’’’首’’詩集中’’’’成’文學’’著’’’’由’’’詩’中’有喜’’快’’情質樸’引’’舊’緒’情調’’’’’’’’模仿’’’詩’’賴’最著’’詩’’’’霜降’瓜’’

霜降’瓜’成’’
’雞闊’’’’’
’雞母雞’’喚’
雄雞’’唱’’’
’’’’心情’舒’’
’著旭日’快’’
’戴’’’餵’’’
霜降’瓜’成’’

’’’’’’’’
’’’’陶’我’
’’蜂鳥不’唱’
’’’’欠’朵’
我今’有’’’’
景’’’晨霧薄’
’’’’勝’’’
霜降’瓜’成’’

玉米’’’’’’
風’葉黃橫斜錯’
’裏殘’’’’’
’’五’’賜’’
’堆’’’歇’’
馬’棚’’’’’
’’我心’鐘’’跳’
霜降’瓜’成’’

’’蘋’堆滿’’
有’有黃實’’’
切’打漿做成’’
’完’’’’’’
’情’景’不盡’
天’’’’見我’’
我’’們’’’’’
霜降’瓜’成’’

’

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, bareheaded, and goes
        out to feed the stock,
When the frost is on the punkin and the
        fodder's in the shock.
They's something 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 the 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 bosses 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 is gethered, and the ones a
       feller keeps
Is poured around the cellar-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 saussage, too!
I don't know how to tell it－but ef 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!

霜降’瓜 When the Frost is on the Pumpkin

霜降’瓜
When the Frost is on the Pumpkin