A Boy's Thanksgiving Day

Thanksgiving is almost here. As you might imagine I am baking like a madwoman. So I am going to cheat a bit and give a poem about Thanksgiving by Lydia Maria Child. It was originally published in a book named Flowers for Children published in 1844.


Lydia Child was one of the first women living in America to earn a living as a writer. Her specialty was domestic advice books. Many people know this poem by another name.


A Boy's Thanksgiving Day

Over the river, and through the wood,
To Grandfather's house we go;
The horse knows the way to carry the sleigh
through the white and drifted snow.

Over the river, and through the wood,
To Grandfather's house away!
We would not stop for doll or top,
For this is Thanksgiving Day.

Over the river, and through the wood—
Oh, how the wind does blow!
It stings the toes and bites the nose
As over the ground we go.

Over the river, and through the wood,
With a clear blue winter sky,
The dogs do bark, and children hark,
As we go jingling by.

Over the river, and through the wood,
To have a first-rate play.
Hear the bells ring, "Ting-a-ling-ding",
Hurrah for Thanksgiving Day!

Over the river, and through the wood,
No matter for winds that blow,
Or if we get the sleigh upset
Into a bank of snow

Over the river, and through the wood,
To see little John and Ann.
We will kiss them all, and play snow-ball,
And stay as long as we can.

Over the river, and through the wood
Trot fast, my dapple-gray!
Spring over the ground like a hunting-hound,
For this is Thanksgiving Day.

Over the river, and through the wood—
And straight through the barnyard gate,
We seem to go extremely slow,
It is so hard to wait!

Over the river, and through the wood,
Old Jowler hears our bells.
He shakes his pow, with a loud bow-wow,
And thus the news he tells.

Over the river, and through the wood,
When Grandmother sees us come,
She will say, "Oh, dear, the children are here,
Bring a pie for everyone."

Over the river, and through the wood—
Now Grandmother's cap I spy!
Hurrah for the fun! Is the pudding done?
Hurrah for the pumpkin pie!

Comments

  1. Very nice Emma. This is a new poem to me. Obviously from another era.

    ReplyDelete
  2. My mother used to sing it to me. We also had to learn it in school. There are more verses than I knew however. Thank you for commenting.

    ReplyDelete

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