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Edgar Guest - Canning Time
Work rating: Low

There`s a wondrous smell of spices 
In the kitchen, 
Most bewitchin`; 
There are fruits cut into slices 
That just set the palate itchin`; 
There`s the sound of spoon on platter 
And the rattle and the clatter; 
And a bunch of kids are hastin` 
To the splendid joy of tastin`: 
It`s the fragrant time of year 
When fruit-cannin` days are here. 
 
There`s a good wife gayly smilin` 
And perspirin` 
Some, and tirin`; 
And while jar on jar she`s pilin` 
And the necks o` them she`s wirin` 
I`m a-sittin` here an` dreamin` 
Of the kettles that are steamin`, 
And the cares that have been troublin` 
All have vanished in the bubblin`. 
I am happy that I`m here 
At the cannin` time of year. 

Lord, I`m sorry for the feller 
That is missin` 
All the hissin` 
Of the juices, red and yeller, 
And can never sit and listen 
To the rattle and the clatter 
Of the sound of spoon on platter. 
I am sorry for the single, 
For they miss the thrill and tingle 
Of the splendid time of year 
When the cannin` days are here.
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