Here’s a fun one:

Crockett’s Daughters:

I always had the praise o’ raisin the tallest and fattest, and sassyest gals in all America. They can out-run, out-]ump, out-fight, and out-scream any crittur in creation; and for scratchin’, thar’s not a hungry painter, or a patent horse-rake can hold a claw to ’em. . .   The oldest one growed so etarnally tall that her head had got nearly out o’ sight, when she got into an all-thunderin’ fight with a thunder storm that stunted her growth, and now I am afraid that she’ll never reach her natural size. Still, it takes a hull winter’s weavin’ to make her walkin’ and bed clothes; and when she goes to bed, she’s so tarnal long, and sleeps so sound, that we can only waken her by degrees, and that’s by chopping firewood on her shins. .   An’ I guess I shall never forget how all horrificaciously flumexed a hull party of Indians war, the time they surprised and seized my middle darter, Thebeann, when she war out gatherin’ birch bark to make a canoe. The varmints knew as soon as they got hold of her that she war one of my breed, by her thunderbolt kickin’, and they determined to cook half of her and eat the other half alive, out of revenge for the many lickin’s I gin ’em.  At last they concluded to tie her to a tree, and kindle a fire around her. But they couldn’t come it, for while they war gone for wood, a lot of painters that war looking on at the cowardly work, war so gal-vanised an’ pleased with the gal’s true grit that they formed a guard around her, and wouldn’t allow the red (varmints) to come within smellin’ distance; they actually gnawed her loose, an’ ’scorted her half way home.  But the youngest o’ my darters takes arter me, and is of the regular earthquake natur. Her body’s flint rock, her soul’s lightnin’, her fist is a thunderbolt, and her teeth can out-cut any steam-mill saw in creation. She is a parfect infant prodigy, being Only six years old; she has the biggest foot and widest mouth in all the west, and when She grins, she is splendifferous; she shows most beautiful intarnals, and can scare a flock o’ wolves to total terrifications.  Well, one day, my sweet little infant was walking in the woods, and amusing herself by picking up Walnuts, and cracking them with her front grindstones, when suddenaciously she stumbled over an almitey great hungry he-barr..  The critter seein’ her fine red shoulders bare, sprung at her as if determined to feast upon Crockett meat. He gin her a savaggerous hug, and was jist about biting a regular buss out on her check, when the child, resentin’ her insulted vartue, gin him a kick with her south fist in his digestion that made him hug the arth instanterly.  Jist as he war a-comin’ to her a second time, the little gal grinned sich a double streak o’ blue lightnin into his mouth that it cooked the critter to death as quick as think. She brought him home for dinner. She’ll be a thunderin’ fine gal when she gets her nateral growth, if her stock o’ Crockett lightnin don’t burst her biler, and blow her up.

David Crockett

America The Beautiful by Katharine Lee Bates
(inspired looking down on the Colorado plain from Pike’s Peak)

Original Lyrics

Original poem (1893)

America. A Poem for July 4.

O beautiful for spacious skies,

For amber waves of grain,

For purple mountain majesties

Above the enameled plain!

America! America!

God shed His grace on thee,

Till souls wax fair as earth and air

And music-hearted sea!

O beautiful for pilgrim feet

Whose stern, impassioned stress

A thoroughfare for freedom beat

Across the wilderness!

America! America!

God shed His grace on thee

Till paths be wrought through wilds of thought

By pilgrim foot and knee!

O beautiful for glory-tale

Of liberating strife,

When once or twice, for man’s avail,

Men lavished precious life!

America! America!

God shed His grace on thee

Till selfish gain no longer stain,

The banner of the free!

O beautiful for patriot dream

That sees beyond the years

Thine alabaster cities gleam

Undimmed by human tears!

America! America!

God shed His grace on thee

Till nobler men keep once again

Thy whiter jubilee!

1904 version

O beautiful for spacious skies,

For amber waves of grain,

For purple mountain majesties

Above the fruited plain!

America! America!

God shed His grace on thee,

And crown thy good with brotherhood

From sea to shining sea!

O beautiful for pilgrim feet

Whose stern impassioned stress

A thoroughfare for freedom beat

Across the wilderness.

America! America!

God mend thine ev’ry flaw,

Confirm thy soul in self-control,

Thy liberty in law.

O beautiful for glorious tale

Of liberating strife,

When valiantly for man’s avail

Men lavish precious life.

America! America!

May God thy gold refine

Till all success be nobleness,

And ev’ry gain divine.

O beautiful for patriot dream

That sees beyond the years

Thine alabaster cities gleam

Undimmed by human tears.

America! America!

God shed His grace on thee,

And crown thy good with brotherhood

From sea to shining sea.

1913 version

O beautiful for spacious skies,

For amber waves of grain,

For purple mountain majesties

Above the fruited plain!

America! America!

God shed his grace on thee

And crown thy good with brotherhood

From sea to shining sea!

O beautiful for pilgrim feet

Whose stern impassioned stress

A thoroughfare of freedom beat

Across the wilderness!

America! America!

God mend thine every flaw,

Confirm thy soul in self-control,

Thy liberty in law!

O beautiful for heroes proved

In liberating strife.

Who more than self their country loved

And mercy more than life!

America! America!

May God thy gold refine

Till all success be nobleness

And every gain divine!

O beautiful for patriot dream

That sees beyond the years

Thine alabaster cities gleam

Undimmed by human tears!

America! America!

God shed his grace on thee

And crown thy good with brotherhood

From sea to shining sea!

Grand Canyon Lit Up By Lightning

Behold Wrath of God near Grand Canyon … Happy Easter everyone!

Here’s my new gig:

Be my punkin’…?

(Happy Valentine’s Day everybody!)

Yeaasss! Now That’s what I’m talking about!!  The results of my $5 thrift store find with some Winco bin brownie flour and cashews…!  Next stop is trying other stuff into the bundt: cheese, ‘maters, spinach & eggs…sort of a bundt-quiche?  Hmmm….wonder if I could make a pie crust with this thing?  Anyway, God bless you Martha Stewart for all your pretty food; I plan on getting around to all your stuff now… you wonderful common person you.

Christmas Eve 2013 finds me lulled to the honkings, tootings, quackiings, and ark-arkings of swarms of duck and geese circling, passing by my window.  I’ve just gorged myself on half an apple pie and a third of the tub of whipped cream; the coffee did little to stem the drowsiness that’s encompassed me.  Will I sleep through this evening of happy faces singing from my TV?  No, I must rouse myself…must fight off the beautiful blessed slumber that would trade my Christmas Eve joys for yet one more of those sweet dreams I’ve had of late…   I teeter to my feet; swing into the kitchen nook.  Three fat tablespoons of Tasters’ Choice; splash in milk to soothe steaming cup from microwave.  That’ll wake me up.  Just then the rush of huge Canadian wings fill the air outside my window.  The goose gang play like jazz musicians gone wild–clarinets, trombones, tubas, you name it–all mixed in with my radio’s caroling…   No place for Santa tonite; too darm much traffic!  God I love this place!

For those of you too busy cooking your turkey, sleeping in, or just plain on the pot…here’s a few shots I ripped off the TV of New York’s annual Thanksgiving parade. Wish I could of got more, but I was up all night cooking and..well…you know what happens when you eat a lot…!