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
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