The Ripest Peach Is Highest On The

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.

And The Sun Had On A Crown Wrought Of Gilded Thistledown, And A Scarf Of Velvet Vapor And A Raveled Rainbow Gown; And His Tinsel-tangled Hair Tossed And Lost Upon The Air Was Glossier And Flossier Than Any Anywhere.

Long About Knee-deep In June, 'bout The Time Strewberries Melts On The Vine.

Who Bides His Time Tastes The Sweet Of Honey In The Saltiest Tear; And Though He Fares With Slowest Feet Joy Runs To Meet Him Drawing Near.

Oh, The World's A Curious Compound, With Its Honey And Its Gall, With Its Cares And Bitter Crosses, But A Good World After All. And A Good God Must Have Made It-leastways, That Is What I Say, When A Hand Is On My Shoulder In A Friendly Sort Of Way.