Thursday, November 24, 2005

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Thanksgiving Day Poetry & Prose Blogging - Read Until You're Stuffed Edition

YOU ARE VISITING THE OLD MALKIN(S)WATCH. THAT'S FANTASTIC. PLEASE VISIT THE NEW MALKIN(S)WATCH WHEN YOU GET A CHANCE.
Two poems today:

It started as a poem:
A Boy's Thanksgiving Day - Lydia Maria Child

Over the river, and through the wood,
to Grandfather's house we go;
the horse knows the way to carry the sleigh
through the white and drifted snow.

Over the river, and through the wood,
to Grandfather's house away!
We would not stop for doll or top,
for 'tis Thanksgiving Day.

Over the river, and through the wood-
oh, how the wind does blow!
It stings the toes and bites the nose,
as over the ground we go.

Over the river, and through the wood.
with a clear blue winter sky,
The dogs do bark and the children hark,
as we go jingling by.

Over the river, and through the wood,
to have a first-rate play.
Hear the bells ring, "Ting a ling ding!"
Hurray for Thanskgiving Day!

Over the river, and through the wood-
no matter for winds that blow;
Or if we get the sleigh upset
into a bank of snow.

Over the river, and through the wood,
to see little John and Ann;
We will kiss them all, and play snowball
and stay as long as we can.

Over the river, and through the wood,
trot fast my dapple gray!
Spring over the ground like a hunting-hound!
For 'tis Thanksgiving Day.

Over the river, and through the wood
and straight through the barnyard gate.
We seem to go extremely slow-
it is so hard to wait!

Over the river, and through the wood-
Old Jowler hears our bells;
He shakes his paw with a loud bow-wow,
and thus the news he tells.

Over the river, and through the wood-
when Grandmother sees us come,
She will say, "O, dear, the children are here,
bring pie for everyone."

Over the river, and through the wood-
now Grandmothers cap I spy!
Hurrah for the fun! Is the pudding done?
Hurrah for the pumpkin pie
And prose, provenance unknown (I found this in a collection of verse, and it worked as free verse for me, but I'm pretty sure that it's just hacked apart from a prose original. For whatever reason, I like it formatted this way, so this way it's staying):
Indian Names and Whiteman Numbers

In the old days of the Cherokees all
used to have just one name; but back
when everybody had to get enrolled,
they had to give two names before
they were given a roll number. That
was so there would be no confusion
about people with the same name.
Well, when people went down to
enroll they would pick out just
anything for a second name, because
they thought it was all just some sort
of whiteman's joke anyway. I guess
that's how the Drywaters and the
Rattlinggourds and Roastingears
and Snakeheads and Dreadfulwaters
all got their names.
One time there was a whiteman
that came and hired a crew from
around here to work on a government
project. We all went down to work
the first morning and that whiteman
had a list of roll numbers and we
were all supposed to give him our
names, so he could write them down
in his book. Well, he read out the
first number and Crabgrass Gritts
gave him his name. Then he read
the second number, and Chickadee
Augerhole gave his name. Then he
read the third number and
Groundhog Rooster told him his
name. That was when that whiteman
quit writing and said, "Now come
on, you fellows, this is serious
business. I've got to have your real
names to put down here; and I don't
want you fooling around and
stringing me along like that."
Well, after a long time we got him
quietened down so he believed that
all those names were real names,
sure enough. So then he called out
the fourth roll number, and I don't
remember now if it was Hawkshooter
Pigeon or Birdtail Nofire that
answered. Come to think of it, it
might have been that old man
Peacheater Peacheater.