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Christmas Conversion

Gelesen von LibriVox Volunteers

(4,5 Sterne; 2 Bewertungen)

Jean McKishnie Blewett was a Canadian journalist, author and poet.

Blewett was a regular contributor to The Globe, a Toronto newspaper and in 1898 became editor of its Homemakers Department. In 1919, assisted by the Imperial Order of the Daughters of the Empire, she published a booklet titled Heart Stories to benefit war charities. During this time she regularly lectured on topics such as temperance and suffragism. She used the pseudonym Katherine Kent for some of her writing. - Summary by Wikipedia (0 hr 22 min)

Chapters

Christmas Conversion - Read by BK

2:05

Read by Bruce Kachuk

Christmas Conversion - Read by DD

2:35

Read by Dahlia Dolorosa

Christmas Conversion - Read by DL

2:01

Read by David Lawrence

Christmas Conversion - Read by GB

2:11

Read by Garth Burton

Christmas Conversion - Read by GG

2:27

Read by Greg Giordano

Christmas Conversion- Read by LAH

2:04

Read by Lee Ann Howlett

Christmas Conversion - Read by MSD

1:56

Read by Matthew Datcher

Christmas Conversion - Read by PC

1:51

Read by Phil Chenevert

Christmas Conversion - Read by PS

1:46

Read by Phil Schempf

Christmas Conversion - Read by TP

1:43

Read by Tomas Peter

Christmas Conversion - Read by VB

2:00

Read by tovarisch

Bewertungen

I put nbelow the text of the poem:

(4 Sterne)

I can see her in the kitchen, Apron on and sleeves rolled up, Measurin' spices in a teaspoon, Figs and raisins in a cup. Now she's throwin' apple quarters In that wooden bowl of hers, 'Long with lemon peel and orange, An' she stirs, an' stirs, an' stirs. Then she takes her knife an' chops it, Chops so fast her hand jest flies. Now I know what ma is up to— Makin' mincemeat for the pies. I smell Christmas in our kitchen, An' my heart gets big an' glad, An' I, somehow, fall to wishin', That I wasn't quite so bad. An' I tell myself I'll never Cheat at marbles any more, Nor make faces at my teacher, Nor hang round the corner store 'Stead of goin' on my errands; Never touch the cookie pail, Nor play hooky an' go skatin', Nor tie cans on Rover's tail; Never let ma think it's spellings When it's only Robin Hood. With the gladness comes the wishin' To be, oh, just awful good! 'Bout this time of year it takes me— Pa, he doesn't understand, Always says: "You sly young codger, You know Christmas is at hand." But it isn't that, it's something— Can't explain it very well— Takes me when ma fills the kitchen With this juicy Christmas smell. When she chops the spice an' raisins, With the peels an' Northern Spies, Sleeves rolled up above her elbows, Makin' mincemeat for the pies.