Explore "Picnic-Time" by Eugene Field on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
It's June ag'in, an' in my soul I feel the fillin' joy / That's sure to come this time o' year to every little boy; / For, every June, the Sunday-schools at picnics may be seen, / Where "fields beyont the swellin' floods stand dressed in livin' green"; / Where little girls are skeered to death with spiders, bugs, and ants, / An' little boys get grass-stains on their go-to meetin' pants. / It's June ag'in, an' with it all what happiness is mine -- / There's goin' to be a picnic, an' I'm goin' to jine!
One year I jined the Baptists, an' goodness! how it rained! / (But grampa says that that's the way "baptizo" is explained.) / And once I jined the 'Piscopils an' had a heap o' fun -- / But the boss of all the picnics was the Presbyteriun! / They had so many puddin's, sallids, sandwidges, an' pies, / That a feller wisht his stummick was as hungry as his eyes! / Oh, yes, the eatin' Presbyteriuns give yer is so fine / That when they have a picnic, you bet I'm goin' to jine!