large/6636/uncle_josh_punkin_centre_1112_librivox_64kb_mp3/unclejoshspunkincentrestories_18_stewart_64kb_1
large/6636/uncle_josh_punkin_centre_1112_librivox_64kb_mp3/unclejoshspunkincentrestories_18_stewart_64kb
English
6636
Soon be time for huskin' parties, or an apple paring bee, And the signs of peace and plenty are just splendid for to see; The flowers they are drooping, soon there won't be none at all, Old Jack Frost has nipped them, and by that I know it's Fall. SOON BE TIME FOR HUSKIN PARTIES OR AN APPLE PEARING BEE AND THE SIGNS OF PEACE AN PLENTY ARE JUST SPLENDID FOR TO SEE THE FLOWERS THEY ARE DROOPING SOON THERE WON'T BE NONE AT ALL OLD JACK FROST HAS NIPPED HIM AND BY THAT I KNOW IT'S FALL
ight good, they called in a lot of constables, and it cost me sixteen dollars and forty-five cents, and then they took me out ridin' in a little blue wagon with a bell on it, and they kept ringin' the bell every foot of the way to let folks know I wuz one of Mr. Delmonico's boarders. It is Fall THE days are gettin' shorter, and the summer birds are leaving, The wind sighs in the tree tops, as though all nature was grieving; The leaves they drop in showers, there's a blue haze over all, And a feller is reminded that once again it's Fall. It is a glorious season, the crops most gathered in, The wheat is in the granary and the oats are in the bin; A feller jest feels splendid, right in harmony with all, The old cider mill a-humin', 'gosh, I know it's Fall. I hear the Bob White whistlin' down by the water mill, While dressed in gorgeous colors is each valley, knoll and hill; The cows they are a-lowing, as they slowly wander home, And the hives are just a-bustin' with the honey in the comb.  SECON OF UNCLE JOSH'S PUNKIN CENTER STORIES BY COW STUART THIS LIVER BOX RECORDING IS IN THE PUBLIC DOMAIN RECORDING BY PHILIP MARTIN IT IS FALL THE DAYS ARE GETTING SHORTER AND THE SUMMER BIRDS ARE LEAVING THE WIND SIGHS IN THE TREE TOPS AS THOUGH ALL NATURE WAS GRIEVING THE LEAVES THEY DROP IN SHOWERS THERE'S A BLUE HAZE OVER ALL AND A FELLER IS REMINDED THAT ONCE AGAIN IT'S FALL IT IS A GLORIOUS SEASON THE CROPS MOST GATHERED IN THE WHEAT IS IN THE GRANARY AND THE OATS ARE IN THE BIN A FELLER JUST FEELS SPLENDID RIGHT IN HARMONY WITHAL THE OLD CIDER MILL A HUMMIN GOSH I KNOW IT'S FALL I HEAR THE BOB WHITE WHISTLIN DOWN BY THE WATER MILL WHILE DRESSED IN GORGEOUS COLORS IS EACH VALLEY KNOLL AND HILL THE COWS THEY ARE LOWIN AS THEY SLOWLY WANDER HOME AND THE HIVES ARE JUST A BUSTIN WITH THE HONEY IN THE COMB
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