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It is Fall
     THE days are gettin' shorter, and      the summer birds are leaving,
     The wind sighs in the tree tops,
     as though all nature was grieving;
     The leaves they drop in showers, there's a
     blue haze1 over all,
     And a feller is reminded that once again it's
     It is a glorious season, the crops most gathered
     The wheat is in the granary and the oats are
     in the bin2;
     A feller jest feels splendid, right in harmony
     with all,
     The old cider mill a-humin', 'gosh, I know
     it's Fall.
     I hear the Bob White whistlin' down by the
     water mill,
     While dressed in gorgeous colors is each
     valley, knoll3 and hill;
     The cows they are a-lowing, as they slowly
     wander home,
     And the hives are just a-bustin' with the
     honey in the comb.
     Soon be time for huskin' parties, or an apple
     paring bee,
     And the signs of peace and plenty are just
     splendid for to see;
     The flowers they are drooping4, soon there
     won't be none at all,
     Old Jack5 Frost has nipped them, and by that
     I know it's Fall.
     The muskrat6 has built himself a house down
     by the ol............
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