Poetry Monday

Wormsloe Historical Site

Wormsloe Historical Site is outside of Savannah, Georgia where I spent my teenage years.

I lived not far from this place. This picutre makes me salivate for southern life. Except for the bugs and the humidity, I miss it very much, and my-oh-my, how I love raisin pie.

Raisin Pie

There's a heap of pent-up goodness in the yellow bantam corn,

And I sort o' like to linger round a berry patch at morn;

Oh, the Lord has set our table with a stock o' things to eat

An' there's just enough o' bitter in the blend to cut the sweet,

But I run the whole list over, an' it seems somehow that I

Find the keenest sort o' pleasure in a chunk o' raisin pie.

There are pies that start the water circulation' in the mouth;

There are pies that wear the flavor of the warm an' sunny south;

Some with oriental spices spur the drowsy appetite

An' just fill a fellow's being with a thrill o' real delight;

But for downright solid goodness that comes drippin' from the sky

There is nothing quite equal of a chunk o' raisin pie.

I'm admittin' tastes are diff'runt, I'm not settin' up myself

As the judge an' final critic of the good things on the shelf.

I'm just sort o' payin' tribute to a simple joy on earth,

Sort o' feebly testifyin' to its lasting charm an' worth,

An' I'll hold to this conclusion till it comes my time to die,

That there's no dessert that's finer than a chunk o' raisin pie.

Favorite Verse of Edgar A. Guest, Raisin Pie, pg 27