THE Baltimore SUN

Wednesday Morning

July 16, 1941

  By the Bentztown Bard

 

“Greetings, Andy Cohill”

 

 I thought of Andy Cohill

    When I drove the other day

              Up the mountains by his orchards

            In that Western Maryland Way:

             When I smelt that smell of apples

     In the warm sun on the hills

              Coming from the fruited orchards

           Like Ambrosia from the stills.

 

               When a man can plan a mountain

       In the trees that bear a song

              He belongs to something worthy

             In this world where we belong:

                           For where barren slopes once clustered

               He has turned them into dreams

        Of the honey-dew of apples

                       Where the precious winesap gleams.

 

 

                 Let me roll that road to Hancock
               When the summer’s and its best
                   And I smell of those Cohill apples
        And I tingle neath my vest:
         So I waved to Andy Cohill
             Who has made that land a smile
                 With the fruit of heavenly nurture,
              Made the its apples mile by mile.


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