Ol Settlers Day
by Cara Thomas
Written for The Mail and Breeze
Published in The Halstead Independent
August 3, 1905
Ought to see the crowds a-comin to the picnic that we run
Evry year along in August, when no farmin cant be done.
Come in steam cars, come on horseback, come in buggies, come in gigs
In new fangled things called motors, highfalutin livry rigs.
Come piled into lumber wagons, come on wheels, come any way
Come a-foot, jest so they get there on Ol Settlers Picnic Day.
Ought to hear the talk an laughin an the how-de-doin hum,
An the hellos an the howr yous when the crowds begin to come.
Ought to hear the steam pianner at the merry-go-around
Playin Wheres My Wanderin Boywisht that ere chap could be found.
Ought to hear the blind mans organ playin Land o Liberty,
Ought to hear the babys crowin at the purty things they see;
Ought to hear the big horns beller, an the bands bust out an play
O, we have all sorts of music on Ol Settlers Picnic Day.
An the dinners! Great Jeminy! Ought to see the stuff we take
Buckets, baskets, tubs an dishpans filled with truck the women bake
Apple pies, an tarts, an cookies, frosted cakes an pickled goods,
An the chickens lyin helpless in all sorts of attitudes.
Ought to be there, youd be welcome as a growin day in May,
Fer we share our horn o plenty on Ol Settlers Picnic Day.
Ought to hear the speechifyinnothin aint beyond our reach
Why one year we writ the govner to come out an make the speech,
An he talked so rattlin purty, that we lowed hed mighty near
Jest give up the govner business fer to be a pioneer.
Hope the pride we feel aint sinful, but the purty things they say
Makes us feel that wer some punkins on Ol Settlers Picnic Day.
Ought to hear the speakin likewise of the ol time pioneer
When you come down to our picnic thems the stuff you want to hear
An the fellers what has tuck out a poetic license soar,
In a poem just as purty as youd buy at any store,
Jest as good as boughten poetry er a reglar lariats lay,
But it taint too good fer getherins like Ol; Settlers picnic Day.
Nother thing about our program apt to strike a feller right
Is the getherin of whats left you of yer famlly long towards night,
An strike out then fer the homestead, cross the river, thro the town,
Out where cottonwoods are throwin waverin quaverin shadders down;
Up the road where sunflowers blossom banked agin the hedges green,
Cross the slough an up the lanewaypurtiest laneway ever seen
Leadin up to jest the purtiest spot on all the Kansas plain,
Where youve lived, an loved, an labored year in an year out agin.
Home an tired, but happy, dreamin in a reminiscent way,
An already lookin forrud to Ol Settlers Picnic Day.