Talk about your
favorite season, aní Iíll up and tell you mine,
words or phrases, Itís just . . .
With pail in hand,
I trudge the dusty lane,
Until the shady
thicket is at hand,
Then part the
brush and slip through walls of briars
Into a world
of wonder--Natureís Land.
around my ear, but I dasnít ever hear,
Part the briars
and slip on through, Ďtil big berries bless my view . . .
Pick a few, and
then, by gum,
Sit me down,
and eat me some!
Nen I see the
best of life . . . natureís follies, and her strife . . .
Just like humans,
I declare, wouldnít know Iím hiding there,
most simple times . . . seeiní that it's just like mine.
Little, ol' brown
creeper, he, sneaks on up yon dead elm tree,
that you and me, never will have eyes to see.
Olí blue jay,
ornery cus, kickiní up an awful fuss
I found his lair in that walnut fork up there.
Fill my pail then,
slip on back . . . To the road where humans live,
up between my toes, and I wonder, as I go
Back to town,
do others know, 'bout Blackberry Time.