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 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.
