Apple Pickin' Time

In the fall we used to go to the old Johnson place To pick apples from the aging trees out back They patiently stood with lichen covered grace A once grand old house now off the beaten track Boxes and buckets and bags we'd carry along Who could forget Mom's big picnic lunch Picking was fun and Dad sang an old song We were always a boisterous and happy bunch When picking was done and we'd eaten our fill We'd dangle our feet in the sweet little stream Then tired ,all headed for home, excited still Thinking of pies, sauce, and apples with cream... In the fall we used to go to the old Johnson place To pick apples from the aging trees out back They patiently stood with lichen covered grace A once grand old house now off the beaten track