He Is Not Dead, He Is Just

But The Air's So Appetizin'; And The Landscape Through The Haze Of A Crisp And Sunny Morning Of The Airly Autumn Days Is A Pictur' That No Painter Has The Colorin' To Mock-when The Frost Is On The Punkin And The Fodder's In The Shock.

O, It Sets My Heart A Clickin' Like The Tickin' Of A Clock, When The Frost Is On The Punkin And The Fodder's In The Shock.

The Jelly - The Jam And The Marmalade, And The Cherry-and Quince-'preserves' She Made! And The Sweet-sour Pickles Of Peach And Pear, With Cinnamon In 'em, And All Things Rare! And The More We Ate Was The More To Spare, Out To Old Aunt Mary's! Ah!

I Love The Horse From Hoof To Head. From Head To Hoof And Tail To Mane. I Love The Horse As I Have Said - From Head To Hoof And Back Again.

Tell You What I Like The Best - 'long About Knee-deep In June, 'bout The Time Strawberries Melts On The Vine, - Some Afternoon Like To Jes' Git Out And Rest, And Not Work At Nothin' Else!