2 2 Singing Valleys 



who was the first American poet to win international fame, 

 while in Switzerland gave vent to his homesickness in a long 

 poem in praise of Hasty Pudding. In it he follows the saga 

 of the corn from planting time till the ground meal is turned 

 into pudding. There is a picture of a husking bee: 



For now, the corn-house filled, the harvest home, 



The invited neighbors to the husking come. 



Where the huge heap lies centered in the hall 



The lamp suspended from the cheerful wall, 



Brown, corn-fed nymphs, and strong, hard-handed beaux, 



Alternate ranged, extend in circling rows. 



Assume their seats, the solid mass attack 



The dry husks rustle and the corn-cobs crack. 



The song, the laugh alternate notes resound, 



And the sweet cider trips in silence round. 



The laws of husking every wight can tell, 



And sure no law he ever keeps so well, 



For each red ear a general kiss he gains, 



With each smut ear he smites the luckless swains. 



But when to some sweet maid the prize is cast, 



Red as her lips, and taper as her waist, 



She walks the rounds and culls one favored beau 



Who leaps, the luscious tribute to bestow 



Till the vast mound of corn is swept away, 



And he that gets the last ear, wins the day. 



Out in the Back Woods, husking bees were not so polite 

 as the one Barlow pictures. It was "corn likker," not cider, 

 that moistened the huskers' labors. A big jug of it was ready 

 for the men as they came, and each one had a long drink 

 before they paired off in sides under two captains. The women 

 folks didn't husk; instead, they prepared the feast which was 

 to come. The main dish at this, according to Dr. Daniel Drake 

 who spent a boyhood in Kentucky during the years just 

 before the Louisiana Purchase, was squirrel pot-pie. Squirrel 

 was an appropriate meat for corn-huskers. Didn't the crows 



