'long In Sugar Makin' Time

Ever' feller has soma eason that his feelln' likes the best, Maybe summer, mayb winter, that he thmlm beats all the rest; But the days that makes my droopin' spirits jest git np and climb Air the dyin' daya uv winter, 'long in engar Tn.tfin' time. Then the little birda is singin', ttmin' up their Uttle throats, Thinkin' ur the corain' harvest, nv the corn and wheat and oats, An' the tinklin uv the sheep bells, with the ringin' cow bells' chime. In the dyin' days uv winter, 'long in sngar nftjrin' time. Then the little lambs are playin' an' a-caperin' aronnd, An' the flrst bine Johnny-Jump-ps are a-peepin' through the gronnd, An' the tha wed out branch flows happy, kinder singin' in a rhyme. In the dyin' days uv winter, 'long in sngar makin' time. Everthing, both dead and livin', twixt the earth and sky above, Seema so smüin' an' so pleasin', as if all had feil in love; So, fur me, this sido uv heaven, there cant be no fairer oüme Than thedrin' davs uv winter, long in sogar mttHn' time.