River Frost

Along the Saco River, these trees have taken on a white tint probably from some of the river spray. Driving along this road, always makes me recall the small red record we had in our record box called, "Over the River and through the Woods" by Lydia Maria Child. It was originally written as a poem called "A Boy's Thanksgiving".

Over the river, and through the wood,

To Grandfather's house we go;

The horse knows the way to carry the sleigh

through the white and drifted snow.

Over the river, and through the wood—

Oh, how the wind does blow!

It stings the toes and bites the nose

As over the ground we go.

Over the river, and through the wood,

To have a first-rate play.

Hear the bells ring, "Ting-a-ling-ding",

Hurrah for Thanksgiving Day!

Over the river, and through the wood

Trot fast, my dapple-gray!

Spring over the ground like a hunting-hound,

For this is Thanksgiving Day.

Over the river, and through the wood—

And straight through the barnyard gate,

We seem to go extremely slow,

It is so hard to wait!

Over the river, and through the wood—

Now Grandmother's cap I spy!

Hurrah for the fun! Is the pudding done?

Hurrah for the pumpkin pie!