The cockleburs came on the burdocks,
A little of thistle, a little of flower,
A light red purple top on raw green bur.
The burdocks came like hoodlums come;
The came with neither permits nor requests
They took what they wanted. "If anybody
Asks you, this is us, and we are here because
We decided to come to the party,---- we invited
Ourselves and we are welcome.
Listen in the summer when the roots dug in,
The hoodlum roots of the burdock gangs;
What each one sings is much like----
"I'm going to live anyhow until I die."
In the time of the turning of the leaves
The light red purple top and the raw green bur
Pass and turn to a brown, a drab and dirty brown.
2.
In mel-a-rose among the sons of Sicily
I saw a sheep, a dirty undersized sheep,
In the front cabbage patch of a son of Sicily,
And the wool of the sheep had never been combed,
Was snarled and knotted
And the burdock gang was there
Burs in the wool with a drab and hoodlum mutter,
'this is us, we invited ourselves and we're welcome '
3.
The sober faced goat crops grass next to the sidewalk
A clunking chain connects the collar of the goat with a steel pin
Driven in the ground
Pauses seldom, halts not at all,
Incessantly goes at the grass.
4.
The playhouse of the Sicilian children
Thatched with maple branches their father
Threw over the roof in summer
The roof is dry;
It sags and crackles in the West wind.
5.
The Sicilian father is tying cornhusks
For a winter vest at the roots of the young apple trees
The red peppers drying on the cellar door
This is one of the signs of November.
Carl Sandburg
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