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In November when frost was on the punkin and corn was stacked in shocks,
And the snows began to fall and geese flew southward in V-shaped flocks,
'Twas time to gather in the corn for a huskin' bee on the old barn floor,
Where neighbors gathered to have some fun and fulfill a vital chore!
Ma slaved over her wood-burnin' stove to provide fixin's for the event.
Pa and the boys squeezed apples makin' cider, hopin' it would soon ferment.
Lanterns were hung from beams and baled hay was there for seatin',
And Ma confiscated Pa's saw-horse table to spread the vittles for eatin'.
Folks arrived in scores by horse and buggy, some by open sleigh,
Tetherin' their steeds to hitchin' posts after feedin' them oats and hay.
The bee began with the belles and swains huskin' corn by the bushel.
Findin' a red ear of corn among the yellow was deemed so very crucial,
Since that person rated a kiss whether a lovely belle or the local cad!
The huskin' done and corn scooped away, there was more fun to be had.
The floor was swept for dancin' to the music of a fiddle and mandolin.
Good grub, fun and fellowship reigned til the wee hours of morn, therein!
Even grandpa and grandma were seen squar' dancin' which was neat.
The rafters of the old barn shook to the beat of dancin' and shufflin' feet!
Ain't no fun anymore since corn is husked and shelled in one fell-swoop,
By a dude and his corn-pickin' rig even without the aid of a scoop!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired

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