Pebbles and Shells (Hawkes collection)/Bilin' Sap

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4657161Pebbles and Shells — Bilin' SapClarence Hawkes

BILIN' SAP
You boys all know how 1in the airly Spring,
Wal, say about the time the bluebird comes,
How 'tis the groun' begins ter thaw an' freeze
Along the sunny slopes beside the woods,
An' how the sap goes creepin' up by day
Inter the limbs an' shoots upon the trees
An' how the cold at night will send it back
Agin a-racin' down into the roots
Ter keep all snug and warm till mornin' comes.
The snow aint gone 'cept here an' there a bit
Upon the hills that look all bare and burnt
Instead o' cold an' kinder lonesome too,
Like some poor robin that yer see in fall
After the rest have gone an' snow has come,
A-hoppin' round upon a leafless limb
Perkin' his feathers up an' makin' b'lieve
That he aint cold an" mighty lonesome too.
It aint so piercin' cold these days except
By spells, but now an' then the rough March wind
Gits on a rampage an' careers about
An' howls in at the cracks an' shakes the house
Like he was mad,—That's Winter's dyin' kick.

Wal, jest about this time it gits ter look
Like sugarin', so when the wind gits right
An' it will freeze by night an' thaw by day,
Then boys look out fer jest a rush o' sap;
'Tis then we git the spiles an' buckets out
An' set the camp. I tell you what 'tis fun
This tappin' trees, sendin' the gleamin' bit
Inter the wood, seein' the shavin's creep
Out on the bit an' fall upon the snow
Wet with the life blood of the mighty trec;
An' then ter see the sap come spirtin' out
As bright and sparklin' as the mornin' dew,
An' then ter hear it drop into the pail
As stiddy as an ole-time wooden clock—
A kinder sayin'—drink, drink, drink;
A drop aint much yer say, wal, no, but then
When you've a thousand trees a-tickin' so
You'll find out soon it piles the sap up fast,
An' that's jest what this tale is comin' to.
When sap has been a-runnin' for a week
Right smart, that is it does not run much nights,
The storage tubs an' pans git brimmin' full
An' runnin' over too, 'tis then the boys
Go up ter camp ter bile the sap at night.
But they are used to that 'ere kind o' thing
An' there aint nuthin' they would ruther do.

They git a peck o' apples from the bin,
Some but'nuts an' some chestnuts from up stairs,
An' half a dozen ears of popcorn too,
An' p'raps a dozen eggs to help along,
An' then they start up to the sugar house;
The moon is mebbe three hours high by then
An' jest a-smilin' out her purtiest,
Turnin' the snow to sparklin' diamonds
An' makin' gloomy shadows 'hind the trees.
The sugar house looks cheerfuller than home
With its great fire a-glowin' in the arch,
An' steam a-steamin' out through every crack.
Wal, fust they set ter work ter fill the pan
An' git the fire to goin' good an' hot
An' then they try to have a little fun.
The eggs are dropped inter the hoppin' sap
An' biled, the apples toasted by the coals,
The chestnuts roasted hot, and but nuts cracked,
An' then they spread some blankets on the floor
Before the glowin' arch where it is warm,
An' set down for a feast an' story tell.

Aud sech tales as them country boys can tell
Things that they've read out of the garret store
Of books an' papers on a winter's night.
Stories of Injun fightin' on the plains,
An' huntin' grizzlies on the mountain wilds
An' trackin' antelopes across the snow,
With jungle tales an' stories of the east,
An' hand ter hand encounters with the lion,
An' tigers mad with hunger and with wounds,
Of buried treasures in the mountain's side,
An' pirate raids upon the open sea.
An' all the time the fitful firelight gleams
An' dances in the arch, sendin' its glow
Far out inter the gloom, then sinkin' low
Leaves all the scene in dark mysterious shade.

An' ev'ry now and then the howlin' wind
Shrieks in the trees like witches ridin' by,
Or makes the big old maple limbs ter squeak
An' groan, then in some sudden lull the crust
Will crack an' snap like ter the sharp report
O' that dread rifle that the red man bears,
An' owls with hideous hoots fill up the gaps.
An' as each tale grows skeerier than the last
The boys draw nearer to the cheerful fire
An' peer inter the gloom with frightened eyes;
An' so they pass the cold un'arthly night
A-chankin' apples an' a-spinnin' yarns
An' skeerin' one another nigh to death
Until the gleamin' stars begin to fade
An' in the east there comes a yaller streak.
An' then they pour the syrup in a tub,
Then hitch it tight upon the ol' hand sled
An' draw it home jest as the breakin' day
Begins to chase the shadows o'er the snow.