Monday's Poetry: "Over the River and Through the Woods"

by Pa Rock
Thankful Son

Nine years ago on the Monday of Thanksgiving week I  ran a poem in this blog whose title I believed was "The Thanksgiving Poem" by Lydia Maria Child.  And while most people readily identify the piece by its first line, "Over the river and through the woods," it's official title is "The New-England Boy's Song about Thanksgiving Day," and it was first published in Flowers for Children, Vol. 2 in 1844.   The poet who first penned the lines that later became popular as a song was known for being a journalist, teacher, and abolitionist.

My earlier posting had six stanzas, but today I have included the complete twelve four-line stanzas.

Back when I first paid my respects to this work by Lydia Maria Child, I recounted the story my mother had told me about her parents gathering all of their seven children into a horse-drawn wagon on Christmas Eve for a ride through the woods to the home home of their paternal grandmother, Mary Jane Sreaves - a widow.  With tears in her eyes, Mom remembered how much they enjoyed that nighttime ride through the woods, and the kids would joyfully sing "Over the river and through the woods to grandmother's house we go!"

I dedicated that 2009 posting to my uncle, Floyd Sreaves, because he was the only one of those kids who was still alive at that time.  Uncle Floyd is gone now, so this time I would like to dedicate the poem to the entire Sreaves clan who brought music, joy, and laughter into the Buffalo Hills early in the last century. Somewhere those happy voices are still echoing through the woods, eternally young and steeped in the joy of gathering with family for a grand holiday meal.


Over the River and Through the Woods
(The New-England Boy's Song about Thanksgiving Day)

by Lydia Maria Child

Over the river, and through the wood,

To Grandfather's house we go;

the horse knows the way to carry the sleigh

through the white and drifted snow.

Over the river, and through the wood,

to Grandfather's house away!

We would not stop for doll or top,

for 'tis Thanksgiving Day.

Over the river, and through the wood—

oh, how the wind does blow!

It stings the toes and bites the nose

as over the ground we go.

Over the river, and through the wood—

and straight through the barnyard gate,

We seem to go extremely slow,

it is so hard to wait!

Over the river, and through the wood—

When Grandmother sees us come,

She will say, "O, dear, the children are here,

bring a pie for everyone."

Over the river, and through the wood—

now Grandmother's cap I spy!

Hurrah for the fun! Is the pudding done?

Hurrah for the pumpkin pie!

Over the river, and through the wood,

with a clear blue winter sky,

The dogs do bark, and children hark,

as we go jingling by.

Over the river, and through the wood,

to have a first-rate play.

Hear the bells ring, "Ting-a-ling-ding!",

Hurrah for Thanksgiving Day!

Over the river, and through the wood,

no matter for winds that blow;

Or if we get the sleigh upset

into a bank of snow

Over the river, and through the wood,

to see little John and Ann;

We will kiss them all, and play snow-ball

and stay as long as we can.

Over the river, and through the wood,

trot fast, my dapple-gray!

Spring over the ground like a hunting-hound!

For 'tis Thanksgiving Day.

Over the river, and through the wood,

Old Jowler hears our bells.

He shakes his pow, with a loud bow-wow,^[1]

and thus the news he tells.