Childhood Joys on the Farm

By Albert Murphy

How dear to my heart are the scenes of my childhood
And the sports that had joys that tongue cannot tell
With harness of bark we’d play horse in the wild wood
Till thirsty and panting we’d come to the well.

Then just for a change we’d play in the damp sand
Making houses and barns built over four feet
Then tearing them down to build others more grand
Till off to our favorite pond we’d retreat

But hunger at last would claim our attention
And sweeter than music to hear the conch shell
Which called us to eat things too good to mention
Then off we would go with a whoop and a yell.

The women those days knew just how to cook
So that just the right flavor was found in each dish
They had learned of their Mothers without any book
And the richness they gave things was all we could wish.

Those delicious peach cobblers like Mother could make
With alternate layers of peaches and dough
We would only quit eating for our stomach’s sake
And never was chided for eating too slow.

Now this takes me back to the large family table
Which filled at the call and none wished to be late
To do our full share we were abundantly able
Though sometimes we were urged to clean up our plate.

With childish delight we surrounded the board
With joy I remember each one in their place
No unpleasant language was allowed to be heard
And all had to have clean hands and clean face.

Our parents to feed such a great hungry bunch
Both cheerfully worked with near all their might
We would think it would often be but a scant lunch
But none of us went to bed hungry at night

When summer was past we would hail with great pleasure
The fruits and the joys that autumn would bring
When the trees and the vines were yielding their treasure
To help make us happy while waiting for spring.

How we would make cider and cook apple butter
Or press the sweet juice from the pumpkins that froze
Or shell corn at night or ruin the kraut cutter
We were the last ones to wish for a doze.

It seemed that each season was laden with joys
Though some how in winter it seemed long till Spring
They were rather long for small girls and boys
It would seem oh so long since we heard the birds sing.

We would search through the woods for early wild flowers
And eat leeks ‘til we were a well-flavored bunch,
But minutes would rapidly change into hours
And hunger would drive us all home for lunch.

But the chief of all joys I have failed yet to tell
And it should be told with these other facts
It was when we made sugar and each filled an eggshell
And home on a chip took a great lump of wax.

But time has since taken me on her strong wing
And carried me on ‘til now I’m quite gray
It seems now a short time from autumn to spring
And soon we will all be carried away.