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Show oo JUST FOLKS I By Edgar A- Gneet e : CANNLN" TIM!: Cannln time an" the kettles gay. Singing" an' steamln' the llvo long da , i An' the air as fragrant as It can be I With all o' the spices of Arab The children fiager an' merry-faced. Standing' around for a little taste Oh. 1 reckon the happiest time o" year Aro the days when the cannln" time is here. Hey' you youngsters, clear out o' the We re all too busy to 'tend to you, Oei in the yard if you want to pla. An" the time's too short for the tasks to Watch the Jelly" Don't let It burn' An give that ketchup a gentle turn,-Somehow turn,-Somehow the peaches don't seem to bo As big as tho ones that we used to see. The table ? loaded wlih Jars an' cans, I An' rubbers an' spoons an' pots an' pane. An" out o" the kettles come perfumes rare From the far off east an, fill the air An" I can't help thlnkln' how strange. , It seems, I Like the curious things that ou see in dreams. I That cloves should grow on a distant shore An' find their way to our kitchen door. It's a curious, curious world, I say. How we serve each other, though far away. I Men that I shall never know or meet Have worked for the jelly we soon shall eat. An" from over the seas aji' the burnin' sun H Has traveled a parcel of cinnamon. Bearin' the scent of a tropic clime. Into our kitchen at cannln' time. ! (Copyright, 1920, by Edgar A. Guest). |