Poetry of Kansas
 

The Biggest Durn Fools
On The Crick

Each year as the month of October comes on
    With a chill in the air just at night,
We roll up the tent and we hike for the woods
    For a lark where the camp fire is bright.
For the spirit of camping just pulls at our hearts,
    And wins every time at the trick,
Tho' the neighbors may say as they see us go by,
    "They're the biggest durn fools on the crick."
 
For we roll up the logs right in front of the tent,
    And we carry in straw for the beds,
And we make a hall tree from a sapling close by,
    And hang on the togs from our heads;
Then we rake out the ashes and roll the spuds in
    And cover them over with embers,
And the supper we have when the coffee is made,
    Once tasted, one always remembers.
 
Oh! the stories we tell when the supper is o'er,
    Oh! the noises so strange all around us,
When the hooty owl hoots as he circles about,
    As if screaming because he had found us.
The blazing at times as the camp fire recedes,
    The dying so slow of the embers___
The one who has tasted the joy of camp life,
    Forever and ever remembers!
 
What a sweet, happy change from the humdrum
      of work,
    So care-free with camp fire a glowing;
No thought of tomorrow___just living today___
    What happens, not caring or knowing.
Then pulling up stakes for the drive to our homes,
    In the morning with hearts beating quick,
Not caring if others who ne'er camped, may say,
    "They're the biggest durn fools on the crick."

__Ed Blair.

Sunflower Siftings
Ed Blair
(Boston: The Gorham Press. 1914)
Page 124

 
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April 12, 2003 / John & Susan Howell / Wichita, Kansas / howell@kotn.org

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