146 Old Days on the Farm 



A smiling face, a big straw hat, 



Home-made breeches and all o' that. 



And when I'd got there I'd just take a peep, 



To see if old cider-mill John was asleep, 



And if he was I 'd go snooking around 



Till a big round wheat straw I'd found; 



I'd straddle a barrel and quick begin 



To fill with cider right up to my chin. 



As old as I am I can shut my eyes, 



And see the yellow- jackets, bees and flies 



A-swarming 'round the juicy ** squeeze" 



And bungholes ; drinking as much as they please. 



I can see the clear, sweet cider flow 



From the press above to the tub below. 



And a-steaming up into my old nose 



Comes the smell that only a cider mill knows. 



You may talk about your fine old Sherry, 

 Champagne, Canary or Tom and Jerry, 

 But of all the drinks of press or still. 

 Give me juice from that old cider mill. 

 A small boy's energy and suction power 

 For just ten minutes or third of an hour. 

 And the happiest boy you ever saw 

 You'd find at the end of that wheat straw. 

 And I'll forego for ever more 

 All liquors known on this earthly shore. 



ENTICING FOOD AND DRINK 



On festive occasions in the farmhouse of other 

 days, and at threshing "bees" the cider jug would 

 be passed around. Properly made it was a re- 

 freshing and healthful drink, and that boiled-down 

 cider **applesass," with Tallman Sweet apples 



