Originally published in Heritage Happenings, March 2002.

The wind was howling, the snow was deep,
My dad decided we’d had enough sleep,
So he called Ida May, it’s time to get up,
The chickens are hungry and so is the pup.

Mother called me twice but I didn’t answer,
So she pulled off the covers which made me a dancer.
As the room was just zero so I grabbed my stuff,
And ran for the kitchen which was warm enough.

As Dad stoked the fire and Mom made the mush,
I stepped on the cat’s tail and she made a rush –
For the door, it was closed
But the wood box was near
She just hid there an hour till the coast it was clear.

We did up the dishes and the animals fed,
I was just ready to go back to bed.
When Dad said “now Ida this is the day
For a visit to Nettie’s over Carlisle way.”

We hustled and bustled and soon were all ready,
With warm scarves and mittens and Buffalo Robes plenty,
Dad hitched up the team to our new Bob-Sleigh,
They put me in the back on a bundle of hay.

How the horses they pranced and ploughed through the snow,
While sleighbells rang merrily until Dad yelled Woah!
Cause we nearly upset on a huge snowbank
as a neighbour we met, his name, it was Hank.

Now we passed by the Eaton’s, the Markle’s and Black’s,
The Harris’s, Drummond’s and the Nicholson pack,
The Attridges, Cummins, and Gallagher’s too,
That ride was a gay one, as the horses they flew.

At Carlisle, we were welcomed by Talbert and Nettie,
The twins at the window made faces a plenty,
The horses were stabled with oats and some hay,
Then mother opened her basket to show the array.

There were sweetmeats and candy and nuts in the shell,
With a plug of tobacco, for old Uncle Mell.
I sat on a stool to play with the cat,
While Nettie showed mother her newly worked mat.

The menfolk were hungry so dinner was got,
Stewed chicken and dumplins right out of the pot.
The pie was so good, the rice pudding too – (hot)
I remember the “Pain” as out back I flew.

Soon the dishes were washed and all put away,
Then the fun it began on that memorable day,
In the parlour the box stove was lit,
In a minute Aunt Nettie came in and dusted the spinet.

With her apron so blue, then she pulled out the stops,
While the twins passed the songbooks with some hippity hops,
That was music so rare as we kids sang in the air,
With Talbert the Tenor and Father the Bass,
Dear Mother and Nettie in a harmony race.

We sang till our throats were all parched and dry,
Then Nettie passed Cider and Blueberry pie,
Now ’twas time to go home, our visit was over,
They put me on the hay and I dreamed of sweet clover,
That’s all I remember till the next day at noon,
While I dreamed me a dream they would all come back soon.

A true story by: Laura Markle Begg, Black’s Corners, Millgrove, c. 1886

© The Waterdown-East Flamborough Heritage Society 2002, 2023.