Each winter when I was a child I looked forward to the day--
The day my father took the boys "In Powell's Country" way.
The preparations for the trip were made the night before
When all around the Waterloo their gear bestrewed the floor.

The busgans and shoe-maker boots--The pot-lids and Pa's rackets--
The ropes and binders for the wood, the newly sharpened hatchets--
While the reefers and the steamer caps, the grub-bag and the kettle,
The double mitts and home-spun vamps were ready on the settle.

That night I was't sent to bed as usual after tea
And that is why it always was a big event for me.
"Now you can help us pack the grub" the boys would say to me
"And get some empty canisters for the sugar and the tea:

And try to find the 'namel mugs if you know where they're to
And don't forget the leggies whatever else you do".
And then they'd talk to "drokes and dry" and spruce and vir and such,
They scorned the smuts and crannocks that used to mean so much.

My mother in her rocking-chair (while one foot nudged the cradle)
Was palmin' mitts and mendin' socks whatever she was able,
She said "I'll make some lassy buns so hurry up the fire"
(We had a like to swinge the vamps upon the oven door).

I watched my father at the boots--his own and Jack's and Bill's
As he hammered in the spar'bills for scotin' down the hills;
And when he'd start to get a smoke I always watched to see
How he'd rub the baccy in his palm to fill his old T.D.
And sometimes the old "lucifer" would not light up on scratch
So I would hand him down a comb to get another match.

When he'd been out to see the night he'd say "You mi' depend
They'll all be there from Mitchell's with dogs and cats no end.
If we don't want to be the last we'd best be off by dawnin'
So get to bed or ye won't be so yarry in the morning'".

They had so much to talk about when they went up to bed,
Their spurt of rampsin' was forgot-- which other nights they had.
Then Ma would slice up cold corned beef to put between the bread
And I would straighten up the house before we went to bed.

Then very early in the dawn I'd hear the hue and cry,
The wild "Halloo" and "Sis me dogs" as the crowds were passing by.
While in the kitchen down below what a racket there would be!
You'd thing the trampin' and the noise was fifty 'stead o'three.
Pa shoutin' out "now hurry up" Jack singin' out to Bill,
There wasn't such a piece o'work--not since the pig was killed.

The doors would bang, the house would shake as they went out and in
I'd know that they would soon be off when I'd hear the horse-bells ring
Then I'd get out and blow a hole in the frosted window pane
And they'd turn back and wave at me as they went down the lane.

The day would drag along somehow -- I could hardly wait to see
The candles hung on Pa's moustache at least I'd hope they'd be;
So I'd set off to meet them when Mother said I could,
And I'd come down the Arm in style upon the load of wood.

The boys were proud as proud could be, their wind-burned cheeks aglow
And Ma's be out upon the bridge to marvel at the load.
And then the table would be set while the boys stuck up the wood;
On one thing you could always count their appetites were good.

There'd be dinner cooked for tea that night and a Puddin' boiled for sure
With stringy lassy-cody'sauce you'd have to ask for more.
And when the boys all shiny eyed would talk about their day
While I'd count the knobs of frandum that they'd brought home to me.