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CANE GRINDING TIME
When the frost is on the fodder
and wind shakes the window panes
go and hitch up both the horses
cause it's time to grind the cane
The syrup kettle's in the cane shed
with it's sides as black as coal
and it's a good day for the cooking
for the day is dry and cold
Now Daddy's down there in the cane patch
with the wagons loaded high
and just the thought of syrup a boiling
makes me holler, my oh my
Now the old horse just keeps trotting
round and round the old cane presss
and sweet juice keeps pouring from it
by he gallon, more or less
And now the juice is bubbling
with skinmmings coming to the top
Daddy say's that they are poison
and as for eating, we must stop
But the skimmings are delicious
as you spoon them in the plate
for pretty soon they all will harden
and make syrup candy that is great
Momma washed up all the bottles
they're scalded now, and set to dry
and when the syrup boils thick and savory
she'll fill those bottles high
Oh it's such a wondrous picture
those good old days of yore
and I wish that I could live it
just like we did before
I wish that I could just go back
to the grinding of the cane
syrup that made Mom's biscuits taste so good
oh, I'd love to eat them once again
But alas, it all is gone now
just dear memories of the long ago
and I can only see it in my dreams
that life, so sweet and slow
