James Whitcomb Riley

(7 October 1849 - 22 July 1916 / Greenfield, Indiana)

James Whitcomb Riley Poems

201. Let Us Forget 4/9/2010
202. Liberty 1/3/2003
203. Limitations Of Genius 4/9/2010
204. Lines For An Album 4/9/2010
205. Little Dick And The Clock 4/9/2010
206. Little Jack Janitor 4/9/2010
207. Little Orphant Annie 12/31/2002
208. Little-Girl-Two-Little-Girls 4/9/2010
209. Lockerbie Street 4/9/2010
210. Longfellow 4/9/2010
211. Lullaby 4/9/2010
212. Luther Benson 4/9/2010
213. Man's Devotion 4/9/2010
214. Marthy Ellen 4/9/2010
215. May I Not Weep With You 4/9/2010
216. Maymie's Story Of Red Riding Hood 4/9/2010
217. Moon-Drowned 4/9/2010
218. Morton 4/9/2010
219. Mr. Hammond's Parable--The Dreamer 4/9/2010
220. Mr. What's-His-Name 4/9/2010
221. My Bride That Is To Be 4/9/2010
222. My Dancin'-Days Is Over 4/9/2010
223. My Father's Halls 4/9/2010
224. My Friend 4/9/2010
225. My Jolly Friend's Secret 4/9/2010
226. My Mary 4/9/2010
227. Mylo Jones's Wife 4/9/2010
228. Natural Perversities 4/9/2010
229. Naughty Claude 4/9/2010
230. Nessmuk 4/9/2010
231. No Boy Knows 4/9/2010
232. Noey Bixler 4/9/2010
233. Noey's Night-Piece 4/9/2010
234. North And South 4/9/2010
235. Nothin' To Say 4/9/2010
236. Old Aunt Mary's 4/9/2010
237. Old Fashioned Roses 4/9/2010
238. Old Man Whiskery-Whee-Kum-Wheeze 4/9/2010
239. Old Man's Nursery Rhyme 4/9/2010
240. Old October 4/9/2010
Best Poem of James Whitcomb Riley

When The Frost Is On The Punkin

When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock
And you hear the kyouck and gobble of the struttin' turkey cock
And the clackin' of the guineys, and the cluckin' of the hens
And the rooster's hallylooyer as he tiptoes on the fence
O, it's then's the times a feller is a-feelin' at his best
With the risin' sun to greet him from a night of peaceful rest
As he leaves the house, bareheaded, and goes out to feed the stock
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock

They's something kindo' harty-like about the atmusfere
When the heat of...

Read the full of When The Frost Is On The Punkin

Our Hired Girl

1 Our hired girl, she's 'Lizabuth Ann;
2 An' she can cook best things to eat!
3 She ist puts dough in our pie-pan,
4 An' pours in somepin' 'at's good an' sweet;
5 An' nen she salts it all on top
6 With cinnamon; an' nen she'll stop
7 An' stoop an' slide it, ist as slow,
8 In th' old cook-stove, so's 'twon't slop
9 An' git all spilled; nen bakes it, so

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