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By Arbutus (Bell) Milholin
The night sounds are eerie, as we listen in vain
For the squeaky ol’ bike to pass by the window again.
We all sit and sigh, “How I miss that Spark”
And Tippy is lonely, we can tell by his bark.
The preacher is busy cutting wood
And mother keeps singing, as good Christians should.
And then there’s Jimmy, so happy and gay
Flirts with all the girls, when Sparky’s away.
He says that he misses her, but we can’t agree
As we see him wink at any girl free.
The Sudas stop often to see how you are,
They worry about you in your little red car.
We give them a witness, how God rides with you
That you trust him completely in all that you do.
Alvin peels apples for Lorraine to make pies
The pies are all salty, from the tears that he cries.
He prays for the young folks with a burden sincere
And asks God to keep you safely all year.
Hey, here comes kitty, with another fat mouse
And purring to Tippy, “Is spark in the house?”
Tippy give her a cold, glassy stare
And flops down to sleep by pastor’s chair.
Now Sandy’s all signed up at New Kirtland College
Soda jerking she gave up, for a lot of new knowledge.
Mrs. Abbot borrow Kleenex from Mr. Peterson today,
She has lots of problems when Hollis mows hay.
Mrs. Byler sits quietly, her lips move in prayer
She’s talking again, to her father up there.
Blessed Assurance she loves to repeat
As she sits with hand folded, in her special seat.
Martha keeps busy with cats, horses and dogs
Rabbits and ducks and perhaps a few frogs.
Dennis wanders the roads with Mark Suda gone.
The time that he whistles is a sad, lonely song.
Yes, summer is over, here in our ville
The people work hard, their freezer to fill.
Mr. Milholin is still mowing hay,
He works on the summerhouse, day after day.
Fixing the ceiling, and filling up cracks,
So snowmobile girls can warm up their backs.
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