Talk about your favorite season, an’ I’ll up and tell you mine, 
Without fancy words or phrases, It’s just . . . 
Ol' Blackberry Time!

With pail in hand, I trudge the dusty lane, 
Until the shady thicket is at hand,
Then part the brush and slip through walls of briars
Into a world of wonder--Nature’s Land. 

Skeeters whine around my ear, but I dasn’t ever hear,
Part the briars and slip on through, ‘til big berries bless my view . . . 
Pick a few, and then, by gum,
Sit me down, and eat me some!

Nen I see the best of life  . . . nature’s follies, and her strife . . .
Just like humans, I declare, wouldn’t know I’m hiding there,
Watching life’s most simple times . . . seein’ that it's just like mine. 
Little, ol' brown creeper, he, sneaks on up yon dead elm tree,

Eatin’ things that you and me, never will have eyes to see.
Ol’ blue jay, ornery cus, kickin’ up an awful fuss
Just because I found his lair in that walnut fork up there.

Fill my pail then, slip on back . . . To the road where humans live,
Dust squirts up between my toes, and I wonder, as I go 
Back to town, do others know, 'bout Blackberry Time.