I joy in my hart jest to hear that rippin' sound When you split one down the back and jolt the halves in two, And the friends you love the best is gethered all around-- And you says unto your sweethart, "Oh, here's the core fer you!" And I like to slice 'em up in big pieces fer 'em all, Espeshally the childern, and watch theyr high delight As one by one the rines with theyr pink notches falls, And they holler fer some more, with unquenched appetite. Boys takes to it natchurl, and I like to see 'em eat-- A slice of wortermelon's like a frenchharp in theyr hands, And when they "saw" it through theyr mouth sich music can't be beat-- 'Cause it's music both the sperit and the stummick understands. Oh, they's more in wortermelons than the purty-colored meat, And the overflowin' sweetness of the worter squshed betwixt The up'ard and the down'ard motions of a feller's teeth, And it's the taste of ripe old age and juicy childhood mixed. Fer I never taste a melon but my thoughts flies away To the summertime of youth; and again I see the dawn, And the fadin' afternoon of the long summer day, And the dusk and dew a-fallin', and the night a-comin' on. And thare's the corn around us, and the lispin' leaves and trees, And the stars a-peekin' down on us as still as silver mice, And us boys in the wortermelons on our hands and knees, And the new-moon hangin' ore us like a yeller-cored slice. Oh! it's wortermelon time is a-comin' round again, And they ain't no man a-livin' any tickleder'n me, Fer the way I hanker after wortermelons is a sin-- Which is the why and wharefore, as you can plainly see. UP AND DOWN OLD BRANDYWINE Up and down old Brandywine, In the days 'at's past and gone-- With a dad-burn hook-and line And a saplin' pole--swawn! I've had more fun, to the square Inch, than ever ANYwhere! Heaven to come can't discount MINE Up and down old Brandywine! Hain't no sense in WISHIN'--yit Wisht to goodness I COULD jes "Gee" the blame' world round and git Back to that old happiness!-- Kindo' drive back in the shade "The old Covered Bridge" there laid 'Crosst the crick, and sorto' soak My soul over, hub and spoke! Honest, now!--it hain't no DREAM 'At I'm wantin',--but THE FAC'S As they wuz; the same old stream, And the same old times, i jacks!-- Gim me back my bare feet--and Stonebruise too!--And scratched and tanned! And let hottest dog-days shine Up and down old Brandywine!