Home Made Ice Cream
HOME MADE ICE CREAM
Grampa’s home was “back in the wild,”
Ten miles out on a dirt road from town.
We visited regularly when I was a child.
Gram was nice, used to Gramp’s frown.
Twas the early 30's (I was born in 1932),
We’d eat real well at Dad’s folks home.
My first taste of frog’s-egg puddin’, too,
As Tapioca got named; to me unknown.
I was very small one day when attacked
By a winged critter from a small shack.
Grandpa’s rooster up on the front of me,
Clawing at my face so I couldn’t see!!!
No very serious damage to me was done,
But a few days later we had a great meal;
Roast chicken with trimmings, such fun...
The old rooster paid dearly for that deal!
After dinner dear Grandma suggested...
She’d like some home-made ice cream.
So Dad got the machine as requested:
Wood bucket, pail, and space between.
Inside the pail, which Grandma filled
About half full of sweet flavored cream,
Were paddles that hid inside as chilled
By salty chipped ice in that machine.
On top were some gears and a crank
That turned the pail around in the ice.
Inside, Dad said, the paddles did yank
The sweet cream, smoothing it so nice.
We all took a turn cranking the handle,
Over and under, around, up and down,
While the pail in its salty ice spangle
Swirled fast, slowing with Dad’s frown.
“Tis getting too hard to turn,” sez he,
“That’s the way when it’s ice cream,
“So let’s unhook the pail and we’ll see
“If this is the taste of a waking dream.”
The gears came off the bucket of wood,
Crank and all laid on the counter-top
Only the pail amid swirling ice so good
With a cover that came off with a pop!
Inside the pail was mostly all filled up
With stiff ice cream so tasty to us all,
That we all ate a-plenty, mine in a cup.
Dad put chocolate on his in his bowl.
Mom added strawberries with walnuts,
Grandma gave me a clean dishtowel,
And of ice cream plain ate two cups
Grampa ate but it stuck in his bowel.
Then, of course, came clean up time,
Which Grandma and Mom did it fine.
Dad dozed on the couch, while me?
I followed Grandpa outside, you see.
The poor old man wasn’t feeling well,
When he saw me he made some yell.
I guess he was sad, old rooster gone,
I to blame for Grandma’s kill-it song.
Another memory rhymed from my past, and I'll do more
later........Urban
Grampa’s home was “back in the wild,”
Ten miles out on a dirt road from town.
We visited regularly when I was a child.
Gram was nice, used to Gramp’s frown.
Twas the early 30's (I was born in 1932),
We’d eat real well at Dad’s folks home.
My first taste of frog’s-egg puddin’, too,
As Tapioca got named; to me unknown.
I was very small one day when attacked
By a winged critter from a small shack.
Grandpa’s rooster up on the front of me,
Clawing at my face so I couldn’t see!!!
No very serious damage to me was done,
But a few days later we had a great meal;
Roast chicken with trimmings, such fun...
The old rooster paid dearly for that deal!
After dinner dear Grandma suggested...
She’d like some home-made ice cream.
So Dad got the machine as requested:
Wood bucket, pail, and space between.
Inside the pail, which Grandma filled
About half full of sweet flavored cream,
Were paddles that hid inside as chilled
By salty chipped ice in that machine.
On top were some gears and a crank
That turned the pail around in the ice.
Inside, Dad said, the paddles did yank
The sweet cream, smoothing it so nice.
We all took a turn cranking the handle,
Over and under, around, up and down,
While the pail in its salty ice spangle
Swirled fast, slowing with Dad’s frown.
“Tis getting too hard to turn,” sez he,
“That’s the way when it’s ice cream,
“So let’s unhook the pail and we’ll see
“If this is the taste of a waking dream.”
The gears came off the bucket of wood,
Crank and all laid on the counter-top
Only the pail amid swirling ice so good
With a cover that came off with a pop!
Inside the pail was mostly all filled up
With stiff ice cream so tasty to us all,
That we all ate a-plenty, mine in a cup.
Dad put chocolate on his in his bowl.
Mom added strawberries with walnuts,
Grandma gave me a clean dishtowel,
And of ice cream plain ate two cups
Grampa ate but it stuck in his bowel.
Then, of course, came clean up time,
Which Grandma and Mom did it fine.
Dad dozed on the couch, while me?
I followed Grandpa outside, you see.
The poor old man wasn’t feeling well,
When he saw me he made some yell.
I guess he was sad, old rooster gone,
I to blame for Grandma’s kill-it song.
Another memory rhymed from my past, and I'll do more
later........Urban
