  'Long in the fall when it gits cold An' Ma takes on the shakes, Then Ma at Pa will talk an' scold, "The kids'll freeze, my sakes!" Then Pa he ties a aprun on An' mittens double wove, An' we kids know we'll have some fun When Pa puts up the stove! He grabs the pipe he laid away There in the attic high, An' jumps aroun' jes' lively! Say, My Pa is orful spry! He dumps the soot upon the stairs, An' gits blacked like a cove, An' what he talks ain't sayin' prayers When Pa puts up the stove! He cuts his fingers some, an' grows All black an' white in turn, An' that bald place his old head knows Gits red ernough to burn; An' when we laugh, he snaps his eyes No matter where we rove,— An' say! Ma gits so mad she cries When Pa puts up the stove! An' Ma she jaws erround an says He hain't no sense, an' we Hide out behind the barn a-ways To miss the jamboree. No picnic ever throve Such as we have of love an' light When Pa puts up the stove! |
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