Mom's Home Cookin'
O, it sets my heart-a-clickin'
Like the tickin' of a clock
when the first frost is on the pumpkin
and the fodder's in the shock
James Whitcomb Riley
Nothin' sets my mouth-a-waterin',
like the smell of mom's home-cookin'
and nothing satisfies my hunger
like a piece of her punk'in pie!
You're not goin' to find much better
than her fresh bread from the oven,
and if there's one thing close to heaven,
it's her stuffin' made from scratch.
When it comes time for dinner,
with all the kinfolks roun' the table,
we ask God for all His blessin',
and thank Mom for all her grace.
Oh, the years come and go,
relatives are born, and passing,
but when the frost is on the pumpkin,
we'll head home for Mom's home cookin'.
(Poem written by hubs'
cousin, used with permission)