Jump up boys and cook your eggs, it's going to be a scorcher,
The August sun is beating down, I'm going to start the washer...

Jert-chen, Jort-chen, Jert-chen, Jort-chen is the song it sings to perk us
Up on dog days, when it's done we're going to a three-ring circus,

Ringling's clown a-grinning on the signboard by the highway
Has kept you talking nothing else for weeks, we'll do it my way,

We'll ride that Greyhound dog a while, to Moscow and for certain,
Our destination Eva's place, at 3-0-2 East Morton...

Shingles, all in white, adorn her house that's never boring,
At night, across the street you'll hear the sound of lions roaring,

Her home is always peaceful, even with the circus clatter,
Your aunt loves all humanity, it really doesn't matter

How many come to visit her on Christmas or Thanksgiving,
Or Easter or a birthday -- she'll bring new zest to living,

She's raised her lovely family well, they've known her care and patience,
Your Grandmother will live to see her fifth of generations,

You kids will grow and come to know the world and all its joys,
But don't forget the love that's all around you like the noise

Of circus time will be forgotten when these days are over,
And when you're grown, and mobile homes replace this field of clover.

by D. Edgar Murray (This poem won 4th. place prize at Reflections)