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From Rude Rural Rhymes by Bob Adams, New York: The Macmillan Company; 1925; pp. 178-179.


[178]

SWEET SPRING

Sweet spring has come, the peepfrogs peep,
I hear the critters in my sleep.
For some are thin with voices shrill
While others hoarser music spill.
One fellow yawns “ho, hum, ho, hum”;
Another answers “jug o’ rum.”
Sweet spring has come, her raindrops thud
To reinforce the juicy mud
And swell the freshet to a flood.
The buds have shed their winter coats,
The pretty birdies feel their oats
And pour sweet music from their throats.
Sweet spring has come, the young man’s fancy
Is fluttering from Jane to Nancy,
While his new tie, with wide stripes o’er it,
Is louder than the one before it.
His girl in new spring style appears,
With less of legs and more of ears.
A dream is her New Easter bonnet;
A nightmare was the price tag on it.
Sweet spring has come yet winds are bitey;
I wish I’d kept my winter nighty.
By day the zephyrs hit my knees
[179] Just where the Boston garters squeeze,
Between my socks and B.V.D.’s
I’ve shed too soon my winter flannels;
My blood is frozen in its channels.






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