The Poetical Works of Jonathan E. Hoag/That Old Cider Mill

by Jonathan E. Hoag

That Old Cider Mill

Say, Bill, d'you 'member that ole cider mill,
Down thar in the holler 't the foot uv the hill?
Some fruit on the trees, an' lots on the groun'.
An' piled up reel high like a great big moun',
Lots mo" n the cows 'n the pigs cud eat;
An' often we'd fire 'em at bobtail Pete.
Gosh, how he'd run an' kick up his heels,
W'en a hull lot'd hit him rite whar it feels!
An' up on the floor uv the good ole mill,
Thar wuz piles an' piles like a great big hill.
So ole Deakin Jones tuk boards an' bilt
Little yards 'at looked like a crazy quilt.
An' when we wuz cumming along frum skool,
We'd git straws an' suck most a hull pail full.
An' golly! 'twas lickin' sweet an' good,
When we dipped it outer that tub uv wood.
An' wen the deakin wuz goin' upstairs,
An' didn't know we wuz around anywheres,
We'd plug ole Pete, an' he'd jump an' nod,
An' we'd see that yeller stuff squirt a rod.
The deakin 'ud holler an' stomp on the floor:
"Clar out, 'r I'll cum down an' give yer some more!"
An' wen the old deakin 'ud start ter cum,
We'd fill up our nails, an' scoot fer hum.

1921