Contributed by MARCIA PHILBRICK.

To Nellie

Dear sister, 'tis your birthday.
My, how the years do fly,
Since we used to play together
In the days so long gone by.

'Member the swing by the garden,
Where we played in the long summer day?
And the play house in the corn crib?
And how we loved to play in the hay?

And there was the old brick school house
Where we learned our A, B, C's.
And at recess we'd play "blackmam,"
And fall down and skin our knees.

In the long cold winter
How we loved to coast down hill.
Most always clear to the bottom,
But sometimes there was a spill.

We'd pelt each other with snowballs,
And build up big snow men.
Stay out till we were most frozen,
Run to the kitchen and then out again.

And there were the rides to Grandma's
Cross the river and through the wood.
And the turkey's for Thanksgiving;
My, didn't they taste good?

Now we are old and gray headed;
Our children grown women and men.
But really wouldn't you like to
Slide down the old hill again?

~Josephine Winifred Hammond Crawford

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