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GARRISON KEILLOR: Welcome to the Minnesota State Fair. We're standing out here where the skies have just started to turn clear again with a little crowd standing around the KSGN-KNOW booth here across the street from the bungee jump and just up the street from the cheese on the stick and the hot dog on a stick. Minnesota State Fair, they don't have one like this in New York City.

And we're going to do a little bit with some of these people who are sitting out here, drying off after the rain. And we're going to hear from some people who have some poems to recite, poems to recite by heart. Poetry is the one thing that's left out of the Minnesota State Fair. Otherwise, this is the all-inclusive festival.

The Minnesota State Fair is one of the great glories of Minnesota. And those of you who've lived here all your lives don't appreciate it. A lot of people-- a lot of people say they don't come to the fair because there's nothing new here and it doesn't change. But of course, that's the wonderful thing about the fair, isn't it? is that it's the fair of our childhood and it's the fair of our parents, and now it becomes the fair of our children.

The Coliseum is just down the street from us here, which is the Hippodrome in my memory, which is the place where all of these young people from the big city meet the fantastic world of the farm and the farm animals. Those beautiful, big butterscotch Belgian horses that were parading around just outside the Hippodrome this morning. Just down from there, of course, are the livestock barns where those immaculate cows parade in front of judges, cows that look as if they've just come back from the hairdressers.

[LAUGHS]

Cows in which there is no spot nor flaw. Cows, unlike any cows ever seen anywhere. There are amazing swine, pigs down there, too, which for people who've grown up in a sheltered life in the big city are truly amazing animals. There is a Chester white swine down there named Big Bernie who weighs 1,260 pounds. Everything about that animal is fat.

[LAUGHS]

Even his eyelids are fat. People could live off that pig's eyelids. His ears are fat. People are gathered around his pen in great numbers.

This is an amazing fair, the Minnesota State Fair. And whenever you come back here, you're never sure just which year it is. We're just up the street from what used to be called the Conservation building and now is the DNR building. But all of the sites are still the same.

You can still go there and see walleyes in tanks and northern pike. And those river fish, those amazing bottom feeders are swimming around in tanks like the shovel-nosed gar, and amazing shark-like fish in there, porcupine and all matter badgers. And there must even be a gopher down there somewhere.

Down at the foot of the grand stand, which is just over here, and which still has the same letters up there that it had when I was a boy, C Grandstand Show. Down at the foot of the grand stand ramp is where I saw the first living writers I ever saw in my life. They were on exhibit at the Minneapolis Star and Tribune booth. They were being shown like prize animals.

Columnists and reporters, all of them sitting down there-- Cedric Adams, and George Grim, and Barbara Flanagan, and my favorite Will Jones, who was the only person in the paper who wrote funny. I never talked to them, of course, because they were frightening and intimidating. They were writers. But you could go see them and they sat in their booth at regularly scheduled times.

Machinery Hill is just back to my left over here and back up a few blocks where you'll see the biggest tractors you've ever seen in your life. Tractors with cockpits that look like the cockpits of jet airplanes. There's a tractor up there that costs $120,000. John Deere has the biggest combine up there you've ever seen, which is probably one reason why that company is in trouble.

[LAUGHS]

It's an amazing fair. And of course, the Midway is down there with a Tilt-a-Whirl and the big double Ferris wheel, which for some of us is the last thing that we do every summer. But the big thing about the fair is the people that you come to see. It's hard in a state like Minnesota to find a crowd of people and to get in thick and tight with people.

We're all spread out in Minnesota and we try to spread ourselves out even farther. But once a year, for 10 days, we get into a big crush of people, and we find out who else lives in the state of Minnesota other than ourselves. What's your name?

MARTHA: Martha.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Martha, where are you from?

MARTHA: Breda Avenue.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Breda Avenue. Don't give your address, please, Martha. But you're here with a beautiful red St. Anthony Park Gymnastics jacket on.

And you have a poem that you're going to recite on the air. I'll just pull your pigtail back just a little bit so you don't talk into it. And what is your poem?

The title is always the hardest part to remember. Once you get that, then you've got the rest of it. Do you want me to-- do you want me to help you out?

Your poem is called "Paradise Lost." No, no? It's a difficult poem. Can you help us out here?

MARTHA: There Once was a Sportsman named Bill.

GARRISON KEILLOR: I'm not sure we're going to allow limericks in this crowd.

[LAUGHTER]

There's only two good clean limericks in the world, and I know both of them already. So if you've got something else, I'm not sure we're going to hear. I'm going to come back to you, Martha.

Let's see who else has a poem here. You have a poem? What's your name?

KATHERINE: Katherine.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Katherine, where are you from?

KATHERINE: Minnesota.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Good. Good. That's a good start, Katherine. You leave yourself free to choose the town. You having a good time at the fair?

KATHERINE: Yeah.

GARRISON KEILLOR: You look a little damp, but you're in good spirits.

KATHERINE: Yep.

GARRISON KEILLOR: What's your poem, Katherine?

KATHERINE: Two poems by Shel Silverstein. The first is called "The Selfish Child's Prayer." "As I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. And if I die before I wake, I pray the Lord my toys to break. So none of the other kids can use them. Amen."

[LAUGHTER, APPLAUSE]

GARRISON KEILLOR: All right, you want to go for the second one?

KATHERINE: OK.

GARRISON KEILLOR: OK.

KATHERINE: It's called "The Hammock." "Grandma sent the hammock and the good Lord sent the breeze. Now, I'm here to do the swinging. Now, who's going to move the trees?"

GARRISON KEILLOR: All right, that's good. Katherine, you're going to grow up and be a poet yourself. Give this young woman a dry T-shirt. What's your name?

JESSIE: Jessie.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Hey, Jessie. Where are you coming from?

JESSIE: Roseville.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Jessie, you got some goosebumps on your legs here. But you can get up, and walk around and walk them off. How are you doing at the fair?

JESSIE: Pretty good.

GARRISON KEILLOR: This is your first day here?

JESSIE: No.

GARRISON KEILLOR: What's the best thing you've seen at the fair so far? Don't think too hard. Just name it.

JESSIE: The education building.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Jessie, is that right?

[LAUGHTER]

I've been passing up the education building for years, thinking it was just a building full of old science projects. And it's really good?

JESSIE: Yeah.

GARRISON KEILLOR: OK, I believe you. You got a poem you're going to recite?

JESSIE: Yeah.

GARRISON KEILLOR: What is it?

JESSIE: It doesn't have a title. I wrote it myself.

GARRISON KEILLOR: All right. All right. Turn and face the audience. Here you go. All right.

JESSIE: Oh, to be as a bird to roam the freedom-crested sky, to tuck in the wind's ever flowing hair, something to remember me by. To be a party to the clouds, to range the palisades of the air, to soar ever up on feather quills, to have known flight and called it fair.

GARRISON KEILLOR: That's a wonderful poem.

[APPLAUSE]

Palisades of what?

JESSIE: The air.

GARRISON KEILLOR: The palisades of the air. Those are the clouds?

JESSIE: Well, it's the air.

GARRISON KEILLOR: I shouldn't question you too much about this. We do have palisades of clouds overhead right now. You have a poem?

RUTH LAURITZEN: Yes, I do.

GARRISON KEILLOR: What's your name? And where are you from?

RUTH LAURITZEN: It's Ruth Lauritzen. And I'm from Minneapolis.

GARRISON KEILLOR: OK, good. And what's your poem?

RUTH LAURITZEN: It's a classic.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Let us be the judge of that.

RUTH LAURITZEN: OK.

[LAUGHTER]

"Stopping by woods on a snowy evening. Whose woods these are, I think I know. His house is in the village, though. He will not see me stopping here to watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer to stop without a farmhouse near, between the woods and frozen lake, the darkest evening of the year. He gives his harness bells a shake to ask if there is some mistake. The only other sound's, the sweep of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep. But I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep and miles to go before I sleep."

[APPLAUSE]

GARRISON KEILLOR: Thanks. So what inspired you to memorize that poem?

RUTH LAURITZEN: I used to be an English teacher, but that's one of my favorite poems. I love the alliteration, the sound of it. And it's a poem when I'm walking in the snow and I'm alone and I'm looking into the woods that I feel very strongly.

GARRISON KEILLOR: All right, good, good. Now, yes, we're going to go over here. Where did you come in from?

BILL PAUL: From Chaska, Minnesota. And I'm Bill Paul.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Bill Ball?

BILL PAUL: Bill Paul.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Bill Paul. I'm sorry. You have a poem you know by heart?

BILL PAUL: It's a poem about love. There's the love of a baby that's unafraid and the love of a staunch true man. All have existed since time began. But the most tenderest love, the love of all loves, even greater than the love for mother is the infinite, tenderest, sometimes passionate love of one dead drunk for another.

[LAUGHTER, APPLAUSE]

GARRISON KEILLOR: Thank you, Bill. That's a great poem. I thought for a moment we were heading towards a religious moment there. And I guess in a way, we were. You have a poem?

BRIAN WESP: Yes, I do.

GARRISON KEILLOR: What's your name?

BRIAN WESP: Brian Wesp.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Brian Wesp?

BRIAN WESP: Wesp with a P. That's right.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Wesp with a P?

BRIAN WESP: Yes.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Where are you from?

BRIAN WESP: Have you ever heard of Anoka?

GARRISON KEILLOR: Anoka? It's still there?

BRIAN WESP: It is. Just on the other side of the river.

GARRISON KEILLOR: I thought it had been incorporated into Minneapolis, but--

BRIAN WESP: Not yet. We're still as coined as ever so come up and see us sometime.

GARRISON KEILLOR: OK, what poem do you know Brian?

BRIAN WESP: Well, there's a little poem from Ogden Nash. "A remarkable bird is the pelican. He can hold in his beak more than." Let me start over.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Yeah.

BRIAN WESP: "A remarkable bird is the pelican. His beak can hold more than his belly can. He can hold in his beak enough food for a week and I don't know how the hell he can."

GARRISON KEILLOR: All right, all right, that's good.

[APPLAUSE]

That's good. It's not quite like one drunk for another, but it's good. Give that man a dry T-shirt. Yes, you have a poem and your name is?

CONNIE: Connie.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Connie. And where did you come in from, Connie?

CONNIE: Shoreview.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Shoreview, where the towers are.

CONNIE: Right.

GARRISON KEILLOR: The site of the towers. Are there other things that distinguish Shoreview other than the tower farm?

CONNIE: Some beautiful small lakes and great community center.

GARRISON KEILLOR: A great community center? OK. Who are you holding on your lap?

CONNIE: This is my daughter, Natalie.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Hey, Natalie. Are you having an OK time at the fair?

CONNIE: Waiting to go on the rides.

GARRISON KEILLOR: What poem do you have by heart here?

CONNIE: This is a poem I learned in grade school. And when I heard it announced on the radio you were going to do this, I thought it was perfect. It's called "The Cow." Now I'm nervous.

"The friendly cow, all red and white, I love with all my heart. She gives me cream with all her might to eat with apple tart. She wanders lowing here and there and yet she cannot stray all in the pleasant, open air and pleasant light of day. And blown by all the winds that pass and wet with all the showers, she walks among the meadow grass and eats the meadow flowers."

GARRISON KEILLOR: That's a very sweet poem and the sort of poem you would teach a child.

[APPLAUSE]

That's wonderful. Thanks for that and give this woman a dry T-shirt here. Now, let me see.

Is Martha still here who was on the verge of reciting a poem? OK, she's left. I'm sorry.

I'm going to go back to this man in the blue plaid jacket who's from Bemidji. That's why he's wearing a blue plaid jacket. He comes dressed for this. He does not trust summer. Summer is temporary.

BUBBA SCHWARTZ: If you don't like the weather in Minnesota, wait 10 minutes.

GARRISON KEILLOR: All right. What's your name?

BUBBA SCHWARTZ: Bubba Schwartz.

GARRISON KEILLOR: I didn't know there was anybody from Minnesota named Bubba.

BUBBA SCHWARTZ: I am the Minnesota Bubba.

GARRISON KEILLOR: You really are, aren't you? You really are. You have a great chin under a great mustache.

BUBBA SCHWARTZ: Thank you, sir.

GARRISON KEILLOR: You could pose for a sculpture, I think, of Paul Bunyan.

BUBBA SCHWARTZ: Well, a couple of years ago, up there in good old Bemidji, they brought the life of the Paul Bunyan back to-- or the legend of Paul Bunyan back to life. And a kindly old city councilwoman, Rosemary Givens Amble asked me to bring the character back to life. And for one year, I never had a bad time when I was Paul Bunyan.

GARRISON KEILLOR: You have portrayed Paul Bunyan?

[LAUGHS]

There he is.

[APPLAUSE]

You look good. I am just a little bit taller than you, Bubba. I don't mean to point it out, but I can't help but notice it. What's the poem that you have by heart?

BUBBA SCHWARTZ: This is a Robert Service poem. A lot of good old Jack Pine Savages up in Beltrami County would relate to this. It's called "The Men That Don't Fit In."

"There's a race of men that don't fit in, a race that can't stay still. So they break the hearts of kith and kin and roam the world at will. They ranged the field, roved the flood and climbed the mountains crest. Theirs is the curse of the gypsy blood. They don't know how to rest.

If they went straight, they might go far. They're strong, brave and true. But they're always tired of the things that are and want the strange anew.

They say, could I find my proper groove, what a deep mark I would make. So they chop and change, and each fresh move is only a fresh mistake. And each forgets as he strips and runs with a brilliant, fitful pace. It's the steady, quiet, plodding ones who win in life's long race. And each forgets his youth has fled, forgets his prime has passed till he stands one day with a hope that's dead and the glare of the truth at last.

He's failed. He's failed. He missed his chance. He's just done things by half. Life's been a jolly good joke on him and now it's time to laugh.

Ha, ha, he's one of the legions lost. He was never meant to win. He's a rolling stone. It's bred in the bone. He's a man that won't fit in."

[CHEERING]

GARRISON KEILLOR: So are you one of the plodders or which of the people in this poem are you, Bubba?

BUBBA SCHWARTZ: I'm at that transitional point in life. Having learned this poem, I know it's time to start getting serious and thinking about my retirement.

[LAUGHTER]

But I will admit I've had addresses on five continents and I know a lot of wonderful people, planet wide. And I have had more fun than one man deserves.

GARRISON KEILLOR: All right. I believe you, Bubba. But let me just say that I don't believe that Paul Bunyan would use the word transitional.

BUBBA SCHWARTZ: No, yeah. Paul is still going. He's up there romping around today. That thunder and lightning, that's just him and Babe up there playing.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Thank you, Bubba Schwartz from Bemidji.

BUBBA SCHWARTZ: Thank you.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Give this man an extra large T-shirt here for a major poem. Who's the next person who has a poem you know by heart? Stand up so these people can see this. Because some of these children are amazed that people know poems and can say them without reading them off a piece of paper.

MARY ANN NELSON: Well, this is embarrassing because mine is only four lines long.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Don't be embarrassed by that. That's a great achievement for a poet to write something four-lines long. What's your name?

- Mary Ann Nelson from Anoka.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Mary Ann Nelson from Anoka. They're all here.

SPEAKER 1: They're all here.

GARRISON KEILLOR: They're all here from the hometown. How did you come to learn this poem?

MARY ANN NELSON: I turned 60, and I'm now a senior citizen. And this is a poem about that, dedicated to all of us. "I like my bifocals.

My dentures fit me fine. My hearing aid is perfect. But Lord, I miss my mind."

[LAUGHTER, APPLAUSE]

GARRISON KEILLOR: Mary, you still have your mind. Still sharp as can be. Here's a free dry T-shirt for you.

Now, I missed someone with a poem up in the front here. So it's your chance to stand up. What's your name?

SCOTT CHESEBROUGH: My name is Scott Chesebrough.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Scott?

SCOTT CHESEBROUGH: Scott, right.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Scott Chesebrough.

SCOTT CHESEBROUGH: Correct.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Like the people-- you're from the petroleum jelly company?

SCOTT CHESEBROUGH: Well, I'm not connected to them. I don't get any money, but, yeah, that's the same name.

GARRISON KEILLOR: You may be connected to them. I wouldn't give up on it yet.

[LAUGHS]

Where do you come in from, Scott?

SCOTT CHESEBROUGH: Saint Paul.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Saint Paul so you're near by here. You rode your bike or walked?

SCOTT CHESEBROUGH: No, I took the bus.

GARRISON KEILLOR: OK, good. What is this poem now?

SCOTT CHESEBROUGH: This is "Eldorado" by Edgar Allen Poe.

GARRISON KEILLOR: You know "Eldorado." Are we going to hear the whole thing or sort of an abridged version of it?

SCOTT CHESEBROUGH: I frankly don't know if this is abridged, but this is the version I know.

GARRISON KEILLOR: All right, we're all set for it. "Eldorado," the city of gold.

SCOTT CHESEBROUGH: "Gaily bedight, a gallant knight in search of Eldorado, journeyed long singing a song in search of Eldorado. But he grew old, this knight so bold, and over his heart a shadow fell, as he found no spot of ground that looked like Eldorado. And has his strength failed him at length, he came upon a pilgrim shadow. Shadow, said he, where can it be this land of Eldorado? Over the mountains of the moon, down the Valley of the shadow, ride, boldly ride the shade replied, if you seek for Eldorado."

GARRISON KEILLOR: I think that's most of it. I think that's almost all of it. That's all that I knew anyway. Thanks, Scott. How did you come to learn "Eldorado?"

SCOTT CHESEBROUGH: Well, I wanted to learn a poem by Edgar Allan Poe, and the "Raven" was much too long.

[LAUGHTER]

GARRISON KEILLOR: There's Annabel Lee also could be your next one.

SCOTT CHESEBROUGH: I actually learned it. When I was about five years old, a friend of mine gave me a record album of a Basil Rathbone reading Edgar Allan Poe, and that was one of the poems on there. And I listened to it over and over.

GARRISON KEILLOR: If a person has memorized "Eldorado" by Edgar Allan Poe, there are very few opportunities in life to use it, aren't there?

SCOTT CHESEBROUGH: That's correct.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Yeah. This was one and I hope you have another one.

[APPLAUSE, LAUGHTER]

Not too often that people just ask you for that poem. Yes, sir? Somebody has a poem here. Where are you coming from?

GREG LOCHEN: I've got that religious poem for you.

GARRISON KEILLOR: What's your name first?

GREG LOCHEN: My name is Greg Lochen.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Greg Lochen. Where are you in from, Greg?

GREG LOCHEN: Just about five minutes from here in Saint Paul.

GARRISON KEILLOR: I'm trying to guess where that is. Over by the park or--

GREG LOCHEN: On Van Buren. It's over on Van Buren.

[LAUGHTER]

GARRISON KEILLOR: People over near the fairgrounds still park cars in their driveways and lawns like they used to?

GREG LOCHEN: Yes, I believe they do. Not on Van Buren.

GARRISON KEILLOR: No, they don't? And not you yourself?

GREG LOCHEN: No.

GARRISON KEILLOR: What's your poem now?

GREG LOCHEN: My poem is my or "Our Advocate" by Martha Snell Nicholson. It's two stanzas. And I'm bound to forget the second, but I'll try. In fact, someone helped me start the first stanza.

GARRISON KEILLOR: The.

GREG LOCHEN: "I sinned. And straightway, post-haste, Satan flew before the presence of the most high God and made a railing accusation there. He said, this soul, this thing of clay and sod has sinned and I demand his death. For thou hast said the soul that sinneth, it shall die.

Send now this sinner to its doom. What other thing can righteous ruler do? And thus he did accuse me day and night and every word he spoke, O Lord, was true.

Then quickly, one rose up from God's right hand, before whose glory angels veiled their eyes. He spoke, each jot and tittle of the law must be fulfilled. The guilty sinner dies.

But wait, suppose his guilt were transferred to me and that I took the penalty. Behold my hands, my side, my feet. One day I was made sin for him and died." And he choked.

[LAUGHS]

"And Satan fled away. Full well he knew that he could not prevail against such love. For every word my dear Lord spoke was true."

GARRISON KEILLOR: All right. Very good.

[APPLAUSE]

Now, I'm guessing an old Baptist youth program, a Sunday school program years ago you memorized that for, no?

GREG LOCHEN: No. A few years back as a recent born again Christian, I memorized it.

GARRISON KEILLOR: All right, good. Thank you. And you still get a T-shirt, even though you paused at the second stanza. Anybody else? Oh, yes.

LYDIA: I have to do this for my kids.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Your name is?

LYDIA: Lydia.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Lydia, where did you come in from?

LYDIA: Saint Paul.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Saint Paul. And who's this that you're holding here in a yellow raincoat?

LYDIA: This is John Whitney.

GARRISON KEILLOR: John Whitney. What a distinguished name for a small child. You're going to become a vice president of something with a name like John Whitney.

LYDIA: How about president?

GARRISON KEILLOR: Well, yes, perhaps.

[LAUGHS]

What poem do you have here?

LYDIA: "The Owl and the Pussycat."

GARRISON KEILLOR: "Went to sea?"

LYDIA: Yes.

GARRISON KEILLOR: "In the beautiful--"

LYDIA: "Pea-green boat." They took some honey and plenty--" no, yeah. "Honey and plenty of money wrapped up in a 5-pound note. Owl looked up to the stars above and sang to a small guitar, O beautiful Pussy, O Pussy, my love, what a beautiful pussy you are, you are, you are. What a beautiful pussy you are.

Pussy said to the owl, you elegant fowl, how charmingly sweet you sing. O let us be-- too long we have tarried. O let us be married. Too long we have tarried. But what shall we do for a ring?

So they sailed away for a year and a day to the land where the bong-tree grows. And there, in a wood, a piggy-wig stood with a ring at the end of his nose, his nose, his nose, with a ring at the end of his nose. Dear pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling your ring?

Said the piggy, I will. So they took it away and were married next day by the turkey who lives on the hill--" or lived on the hill. I'm not sure.

"They dined on mince and slices of quince, what they ate with a runcible spoon. And hand in hand by the edge of the sand, they danced by the light of the moon, the moon, the moon. They danced by the light of the moon."

[LAUGHTER]

GARRISON KEILLOR: That is this child's favorite poem in the world.

[APPLAUSE]

So do you-- do you recite this poem to this child while you feed him?

LYDIA: Actually, we have a picture book, which I read to the older guys. And Andrew knows that poem, too.

GARRISON KEILLOR: All right.

LYDIA: He helps me out with that poem.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Thanks, Lydia. Thanks for that. And we have a T-shirt and a T-shirt for the child advertising Powdermilk Biscuits, an old Minnesota product. Yes.

ANDY BINMAN: Hi.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Here's a man from the DNR staff who's taking off from watching the porcupines and the cougars. Your name is Andy?

ANDY BINMAN: Yep, Andy Binman.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Andy, do you have cougars down there at the DNR?

ANDY BINMAN: I haven't gone around to look. I work for fisheries. So I'm staying just looking at the fish. I don't want to get too out and out in the open there.

GARRISON KEILLOR: What was the fish-- I was trying to remember the name of this fish. It's a bottom feeder. It's a river fish. And it's the shovelnose--

ANDY BINMAN: Gar.

GARRISON KEILLOR: No.

ANDY BINMAN: Sturgeon. Sturgeon. There's this guy--

GARRISON KEILLOR: Good. The shovelnose sturgeon. With a kind of a shark like mouth and four little feelers that feel along the bottom.

ANDY BINMAN: Right. I'm a statistician, and I work on a computer.

[LAUGHTER]

GARRISON KEILLOR: Is your poem that you know by heart touching on fish or the Piscean world?

ANDY BINMAN: There is wildlife in it and it's a children's poem. And I can't remember the name of the author, but it goes like this. "Once upon a time, there was an old goat who found a silver dollar in the lining of his coat. He went to the store to see what he could find, and he hemmed and he hawed till he made up his mind. At last he bought a painted cup and a nipper of nance to fill it up.

But as he was walking down the stairs, he tripped and went flying through the air, cracked his elbow, bumped his head, hobbled home and went to bed. Achy bones, broken cup, silver dollar all used up. No more money left to spend. No more story left. The end."

[LAUGHS, APPLAUSE]

GARRISON KEILLOR: I've never heard that poem before. Where does that poem come from?

ANDY BINMAN: I wish I could remember the name of the author. We have a couple of books by this poet, children's books.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Close your eyes. Close your eyes. Think, where did you come across this? In childhood.

ANDY BINMAN: Well, no. My own children's childhood. I've read that poem so many times that I couldn't forget it if I wanted to. But I don't want to.

GARRISON KEILLOR: OK, good. Thank you. Andy. Go back to the DNR booth. Look in on your fish.

ANDY BINMAN: Thank you.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Thanks for reciting the poem. Do you have a poem back here? No, someone is volunteering for somebody else the way that people will.

Let me just mention, it's 25 minutes now before 1 o'clock. And you're listening to a live broadcast coming from our booth here, the KNOW booth at the Minnesota State fair, where we have just some interesting clouds overhead. But it's not raining on anybody here.

And we have a nice crowd of people gathered for the poetry exposition, the informal people's poetry exposition here at the Minnesota State Fair. And this gentleman is holding up his hand. And I believe that you have a poem that you have by heart?

LARRY RIPP: Yes, I do.

GARRISON KEILLOR: What's your name? Excuse me.

LARRY RIPP: Larry Ripp.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Larry Ripp. And you're in from?

LARRY RIPP: Saint Paul.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Saint Paul. Everybody's here from Saint Paul.

LARRY RIPP: I'm here with my extended family, my stepson, and my friend and former wife.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Yes.

LARRY RIPP: And we're going to be we'll be meeting my current wife shortly.

[LAUGHS]

GARRISON KEILLOR: All right. That's wonderful. That's wonderful. Family values are always constantly changing and keeping us all interested.

LARRY RIPP: So, I met you once before, Garrison.

GARRISON KEILLOR: I was just thinking that myself, Larry, and I'm having a hard time remembering.

LARRY RIPP: Well, back in '82 I--

GARRISON KEILLOR: You sure it wasn't '83? Or '82, all right.

LARRY RIPP: I met you in '83, but I used to enjoy your show in the morning, the morning show. And they would have a pledge drive and say, if you like Garrison Keillor, like his shows, give some money and this type of thing. And I thought, I really enjoy you and I don't part with my money easily. And I gave a pledge and it wasn't long after that that you quit the show.

GARRISON KEILLOR: No.

LARRY RIPP: And then about a year later, I ran into you at a pledge drive. You were making some announcements. I was helping out on the phones.

And I casually came up to you and I said, Mr. Keillor, I enjoy your work. But last year I gave your money-- I gave money to Minnesota Public Radio, and then you quit your show. And I just feel bad about it. I said something stupid. And you said--

GARRISON KEILLOR: How much do I owe you, Larry? Let's cut right to the point here. What was the membership back then? I'll refund it.

LARRY RIPP: I don't remember. But at the time you said, I can't be responsible for how you spend your money.

GARRISON KEILLOR: No. What a cruel thing to say. You're going to recite your poem here by heart. I'm not sure if I mentioned this before, but this is $10 for each--

LARRY RIPP: That I get?

GARRISON KEILLOR: Huh?

LARRY RIPP: That I get?

GARRISON KEILLOR: No, there's a fee for-- it's called a poetry broadcast fee here. You can owe it to me. What's your poem?

LARRY RIPP: It's called "Love, Love." Love, love is what they say. Love, love without delay.

Love, love by any means. Love, love with war machines" That's it."

GARRISON KEILLOR: All right. That's good.

LARRY RIPP: That's mine.

GARRISON KEILLOR: That's good. I think we need to hear that poem again, Larry. I thought there was going to be more, so I wasn't listening to it as closely as I would have if I'd known it was going to be that short.

LARRY RIPP: Yeah, but you were mouthing along with me.

GARRISON KEILLOR: What is it again, Larry?

LARRY RIPP: Love, love is what they say. Love, love without delay. Love, love by any means. Love, love with war machines.

GARRISON KEILLOR: All right, we're going to all carry that home with us.

[LAUGHS]

Give this man a T-shirt here. Who else has a poem? I see a woman back here with a blue jumper on and a gold-- and a gold blouse.

You look amazingly dry for a day like today. You're just a dry person. Oh, you have an umbrella. What's your name?

MARY JANE LAVIGNE: Mary Jane LaVigne.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Mary Jane, where are you coming from?

MARY JANE LAVIGNE: Birchwood, White Bear Lake.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Birchwood is where they used to have that great amusement park back before you were born.

MARY JANE LAVIGNE: Oh, Wildwood, which is just on the edge of Birchwood. Yes.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Wildwood on the edge of Birchwood. Yes, if you want to become very precise, Wildwood on the edge of Birchwood. Is this is your first time at the fair this year?

MARY JANE LAVIGNE: Oh, no. This is my mini time at the fair. I've been going to the fair since I-- since I was a kid.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Yes, but just once a year, right?

MARY JANE LAVIGNE: Only in the teenage years did I ever go twice.

GARRISON KEILLOR: If we went to the fair with you, what things would we absolutely have to go with you to?

MARY JANE LAVIGNE: I like to see the butter heads. I think they are always been my favorite. And the butter heads have always been a meeting place for us. So, like today, I'm going to go and meet some people at the butter heads at 1:00.

GARRISON KEILLOR: People in other parts of our great nation and other parts of the world, when you try and tell them about the butter heads at the Minnesota State Fair, are not always sure what to make of this.

MARY JANE LAVIGNE: I try to describe it to my four-year-old daughter, and she was a little unsure about princesses carved in butter. But it did appeal to her, the Princess part did.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Yes. What is your poem here?

MARY JANE LAVIGNE: This is a poem for my parents, Margaret Ann and James.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Is this an original poem?

MARY JANE LAVIGNE: No, actually, it's an old standard. "Out of the night that covers me, black as the pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be for my unconquerable soul. In the fell clutch of circumstance, I have not winced nor cried aloud. Under the bludgeonings of chance, my head is bloody but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears looms the horror of the shade, and yet the menace of the years finds and shall find me unafraid. It matters not how straight the gate, how charged with punishment the scroll. I am the master of my fate. I am the captain of my soul."

[CHEERING]

GARRISON KEILLOR: That's a powerful poem. I didn't know people still-- I didn't know people still memorized that poem.

MARY JANE LAVIGNE: Well, my parents always encouraged me to memorize poems. There's the standard. Paul Revere's "Ride."

GARRISON KEILLOR: Does anybody know the title of that poem offhand?

SPEAKER 2: No.

GARRISON KEILLOR: El Capitán?

MARY JANE LAVIGNE: "Invictus."

GARRISON KEILLOR: "Invictus." I thought it was. And that's by an American poet. Isn't that by--

MARY JANE LAVIGNE: By Henry something and I don't remember his last name. But I think--

GARRISON KEILLOR: Longfellow.

MARY JANE LAVIGNE: No, no.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Henry James. Never mind.

MARY JANE LAVIGNE: He wasn't somebody that wrote a lot of poetry. And I don't think he was American. I think he was British, but I'm not sure.

GARRISON KEILLOR: What's the great phrase early in the poem? The fell what of circumstance?

MARY JANE LAVIGNE: The fell clutch of circumstance.

GARRISON KEILLOR: The fell clutch of circumstance.

MARY JANE LAVIGNE: Yep. I think it appeals to the Norwegian in me.

GARRISON KEILLOR: You look as if the fell clutch of circumstance has been pretty good to you actually. So let's give this woman a dry T-shirt though she's not been rained on like the rest of us. And let's get a-- let's get another poem from this woman over here who is wearing this traffic safety jacket.

DONNA HICKS: It's a walking jacket, actually.

GARRISON KEILLOR: With a color like in this shade of pink, Ma'am, you will never, ever be struck by a moving vehicle of any kind. You're absolutely safe.

DONNA HICKS: I hope not.

GARRISON KEILLOR: What's your name?

DONNA HICKS: My name is Donna Hicks. And I just wanted to let people know that people from out of state come to the Minnesota State Fair and I'm from Portland, Oregon.

GARRISON KEILLOR: But you must have some connection to Minnesota.

DONNA HICKS: Actually, we are on a walking tour of seven states. And we have people that we have brought in from all over the country. And we did a walk yesterday in Saint Peter, which was a wonderful Volks walk. And you have a great country-- a great state to walk in.

GARRISON KEILLOR: So you've walked here from Saint Peter yesterday.

DONNA HICKS: No. Actually, we took the van to Saint Peter, walked the sanctioned Volks walk, which is 6.2 miles. And then we took the van back to Fridley, where we're staying. And tomorrow we head for Des Moines, Iowa.

GARRISON KEILLOR: I see. So you are walking through portions of seven states. You are not walking an uninterrupted seven-state hiking.

DONNA HICKS: No, no, no.

GARRISON KEILLOR: All right, I just wanted to be clear now. Now, what poem have you memorized?

DONNA HICKS: Actually, I don't think this is a poem. But I think it probably echoes the sentiments of those who have gathered here today to listen to this show. And its, roses are red, violets are blue. Garrison Keillor, we all love you.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Oh, well.

[APPLAUSE, LAUGHTER]

People from Portland are a lot sweeter than people from Minnesota, I must say.

[LAUGHS]

We just can't afford to be that sweet around here because we have to go through all this weather. Come out here. Do you have a poem that you're going to recite? What's your name?

STEPHANIE: Stephanie.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Stephanie. Where are you from, Stephanie?

STEPHANIE: Minneapolis.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Minneapolis? North, South, Southeast, or Northeast? Or downtown? By the University of Minnesota, someone says, prompting from the back. Stephanie, come out here so we can see you and make you as nervous as we want you to feel. How old are you?

STEPHANIE: I'm 11.

GARRISON KEILLOR: I was going to guess 13, but I would have been close anyway. What poem do you have by heart?

STEPHANIE: It's called "Seesaw."

GARRISON KEILLOR: "Seesaw."

STEPHANIE: "And it goes like Seesaw, Margery Daw, Johnny shall have a new master. He shall work for a penny a day because he can't work any faster."

GARRISON KEILLOR: That's good. Who taught you that?

STEPHANIE: I memorized it myself.

GARRISON KEILLOR: That's good. Thank you. Thanks.

[APPLAUSE]

Here's a T-shirt for somebody who knows an old poem about Margery Daw. I didn't know anybody still knew that. Do you have a poem standing over here? And you are a cheerleader from White Bear Lake would be my wild guess just looking at your shirt.

COLLEEN MOLD: Yes, I am.

GARRISON KEILLOR: What's your name?

COLLEEN MOLD: Colleen Mold.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Colleen Mold?

COLLEEN MOLD: Mm-hm.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Colleen, are there cheers that you do in White Bear Lake that are different from what the rest of us heard in high school?

COLLEEN MOLD: Probably. My mom said she was a cheerleader, and she said a lot of the stuff that we do she's never even heard of before.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Just give us an example. There's sort of-- it's a kind of poetry, cheers.

COLLEEN MOLD: OK. (CHANTING) Big G. Little o. Let's Go. White Bear Go.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Big G. Little o. Let's Go. White Bear Go.

COLLEEN MOLD: Yes.

GARRISON KEILLOR: That's a poem.

[APPLAUSE]

But there's another one that you've memorized?

COLLEEN MOLD: Yes.

GARRISON KEILLOR: And you do-- and you do this one without hand motions?

COLLEEN MOLD: No, there's no hand motions.

GARRISON KEILLOR: What is this one now?

COLLEEN MOLD: I'm not really sure of the name. I saw it on Anne of Green Gables and I liked it. I was going to use it to audition. Our high school is doing the Wizard of Oz, and I was going to use it to audition. So I'm not really sure of the name.

Someone told me it was "The Lily Maid," but I don't know. And it goes, "There she weaves by night and day, a magic web, the colors gay. She's heard a whisper say, a curse upon her if she stay to look down on Camelot. And as the boat had wound along, they heard her singing her last song, the Lady of Shalott."

GARRISON KEILLOR: The Lady of Shalott. Now, is that Sir Walter Scott? Do you think it is? Somebody is nodding? Is it Sir Walter Scott, do you think?

COLLEEN MOLD: I don't know. I have no idea. All poems eventually become anonymous, I guess.

[GIGGLES]

Thank you for that. Here's a T-shirt for you. Thanks for reciting that.

[APPLAUSE]

We're listening to people recite poems at the poetry exposition here at the Minnesota State Fair across the street from the hot dog on a stick and the mile-long hot dog just down the street. What's your name?

KATE MAHONEY: It's Kate Mahoney.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Kate Mahoney? Is that an Irish name?

KATE MAHONEY: Yes, it is.

GARRISON KEILLOR: I see. And are you Irish?

KATE MAHONEY: Well, my parents were.

GARRISON KEILLOR: And from Ireland?

KATE MAHONEY: About four generations back. Yeah, they were from Ireland.

GARRISON KEILLOR: So are you from Saint Paul?

KATE MAHONEY: No, actually. I grew up in Wisconsin and I live in Boston now. But I went to Carleton in Northfield, Minnesota. So I'm back for a visit.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Kate Mahoney, all right. What poem do you have by heart?

KATE MAHONEY: It's a short poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay and I don't know the title. But it goes like this, "My candle burns at both ends. It will not last the night. But ah my foes and ah my friends, it gives a lovely light."

GARRISON KEILLOR: That's why the Minnesota State Fair is only 10 days long is because our candles aren't long enough for it to burn any longer than that.

KATE MAHONEY: Thanks very much.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Thank you. Thanks.

KATE MAHONEY: Thank you.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Edna St. Vincent Millay somebody knows by heart. We're listening to people recite poems by heart. Do you know a poem by heart?

MEGAN: Yeah.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Is that right? What is your name?

MEGAN: Megan.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Meg?

MEGAN: Megan.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Megan. What poem do you know by heart?

MEGAN: Jack be nimble, Jack be quick.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Jack.

MEGAN: Be nimble, Jack be quick.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Jack jumped over the--

MEGAN: Candlestick.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Candlestick, all right. Thank you.

[APPLAUSE]

That's good. Shake my hand. Put your apple core in your other hand. And what's your name?

ANNE VAN DER ZIEL: Anne van der Ziel.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Anne van der Ziel.

ANNE VAN DER ZIEL: Means from the soul.

GARRISON KEILLOR: From the soul. And where do you come in from, Anne?

ANNE VAN DER ZIEL: Two Harbors lately.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Came down from Two Harbors. What poem do you have by heart and when did you memorize this?

ANNE VAN DER ZIEL: It's "In Flanders fields the poppies blow." And I memorized it in sixth grade.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Did you recite this in public at an Armistice Day celebration?

ANNE VAN DER ZIEL: No, but in the classroom in front of all the kids.

GARRISON KEILLOR: And not since then?

ANNE VAN DER ZIEL: Oh, no. Whenever we get together and people quote poetry, I always quote it.

GARRISON KEILLOR: "In Flanders Fields," you're just about to hear this now.

ANNE VAN DER ZIEL: And I did see Flanders fields, too. "In Flanders fields the poppies blow. Between the crosses row on row that mark our place, and in the sky the larks, still bravely singing, fly scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the dead. Short days ago we lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow, loved and were loved, and now we lie, in Flanders fields. Take up the quarrel with the foe, to you from failing hands we throw the torch, be yours to hold it high. If ye break faith with us who die we shall not sleep, though poppies blow in Flanders fields."

GARRISON KEILLOR: Thank you. It's great to hear that poem again. Thanks. There's a T-shirt over there. Are you waving to me or did you have a poem?

CAROLINE POULIOT: Yes, I have a poem.

GARRISON KEILLOR: You do. What's your name and where are you coming from?

CAROLINE POULIOT: I'm Caroline Pouliot. I'm from Red Wing, Minnesota.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Caroline from Red Wing. How are they doing in Red Wing?

CAROLINE POULIOT: Oh, they're doing just great. Thanks.

GARRISON KEILLOR: How's that great old TB Sheldon Auditorium doing down there?

CAROLINE POULIOT: It's very beautiful.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Good. What is the poem that you have, Carolyn?

CAROLINE POULIOT: Well, I was going to try to do "Ozymandias" by Shelley, but I can't remember it all. So I'll do a very short one I learned when I was a child. "Last night, as I climbed up the stair, I met a man who wasn't there. He wasn't there again today. Gee, I wish he'd go away."

[LAUGHTER]

GARRISON KEILLOR: That's a good poem.

[APPLAUSE]

Thanks. When did you learn that?

CAROLINE POULIOT: Very young, like probably six or so.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Yeah. And you've never been that scared since I'll bet.

[LAUGHS]

All right, our time is racing along here. We have time for just a few more. Here's a man over here with a Saint Paul cap--

- Saint Paul Saints.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Saint Paul Saints?

GORDIE PAQUETTE: Saint Paul Saints.

GARRISON KEILLOR: I didn't know the Saint Paul Saints were still in business.

GORDIE PAQUETTE: They're not.

GARRISON KEILLOR: But you have hopes?

GORDIE PAQUETTE: Yes.

GARRISON KEILLOR: What's your name?

GORDIE PAQUETTE: Gordie Paquette.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Gordie Paquette?

GORDIE PAQUETTE: Yes.

GARRISON KEILLOR: And you're from Saint Paul.

GORDIE PAQUETTE: From Saint Paul.

GARRISON KEILLOR: What is the poem you have by heart?

GORDIE PAQUETTE: My poem is by Henry Gibson, the guy who used to be on Laugh-in.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Yeah.

GORDIE PAQUETTE: "Of all the fishes in the brook, I think I like the bass. He climbs up on the highest rock and slides down on his hands and knees."

[LAUGHTER, APPLAUSE]

GARRISON KEILLOR: What'd you think of that poem? Were you a little bit embarrassed by that.

SPEAKER 3: Mm-hm.

GARRISON KEILLOR: You were just slightly. I wasn't at all. I thought it was pretty good. Let's see who's over here. This woman in a remarkably dry, red striped shirt and a red belt. Red is your motif.

KATHY VOLLER: Well, I work for Target.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Oh, OK. I didn't know they had a booth at the fair.

KATHY VOLLER: Oh, no, they just sent me.

GARRISON KEILLOR: What's your name?

KATHY VOLLER: Kathy Voller.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Cathy Voller. And you're in from?

KATHY VOLLER: I live in Minneapolis.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Good. That's fine. That's good enough. And what is the poem that you have by heart?

KATHY VOLLER: It's Shakespeare's "Sonnet Number 30."

GARRISON KEILLOR: Is that right? You know the whole thing, 14 lines?

KATHY VOLLER: I hope so.

GARRISON KEILLOR: What's the first line?

KATHY VOLLER: "When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past. I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought and with old woes new wail my dear time's waste. Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow for precious friends hid in death's dateless night and weep afresh love's long since canceled woe and moan the expense of many a vanished sight. Then can I grieve at grievances foregone and heavily from woe to woe tell o'er the sad account of fore-bemoaned and moan, which I knew pay as if not paid before. But if the while I think on you, dear friend, all losses are restored and sorrows end."

[APPLAUSE]

GARRISON KEILLOR: You did it. How did you come to-- how did you come to memorize Shakespeare's "Sonnet Number 30."

KATHY VOLLER: Well, I went to Carleton College too and they made me.

GARRISON KEILLOR: They memorize poems at Carleton?

KATHY VOLLER: Yes.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Is that right?

KATHY VOLLER: Well, in my freshman year, yeah.

GARRISON KEILLOR: We used to do that in Anoka High School. I didn't know that people still did that. Isn't that great to carry around something beautiful inside your head?

KATHY VOLLER: Yeah. Yeah.

GARRISON KEILLOR: And ever so often you can recite it and surprise yourself.

KATHY VOLLER: And maybe get a T-shirt, too.

GARRISON KEILLOR: That's right.

[LAUGHS]

Good. Good. You remembered. We have just a few more minutes before we have to leave.

We have an amazing crowd of people who know a whole mess of poems. Someone is here from Paris, France, from the Sorbonne.

JANICE TOMMERDAHL: No, I came here with my Norwegian farmer.

KATHY VOLLER: OK. Well, you have a Paris University T-shirt-- sweatshirt on here. What's your name?

JANICE TOMMERDAHL: Janice Tommerdahl.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Janice Tommerdahl. And you're in from?

JANICE TOMMERDAHL: Northwestern Minnesota. Hendrum.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Hendrum, of course.

JANICE TOMMERDAHL: Dan Olson's hometown.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Yes. Of Halstad.

JANICE TOMMERDAHL: Yes.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Yes. And what poem do you have by heart?

JANICE TOMMERDAHL: This is a poem written by a good friend of mine when she was a little girl. Her bird died. They were burying it in a shoe box and they recited this poem at the funeral. It's "Dickey, Dickey, are you dead? In your feet and in your head."

GARRISON KEILLOR: OK, that's good.

[APPLAUSE]

That's good. "Dickey, Dickey, are you dead? In your feet and in your head." Was this an original poem or--

JANICE TOMMERDAHL: Yes.

GARRISON KEILLOR: --or the fragment, perhaps, of a longer.

JANICE TOMMERDAHL: No, that's all it was.

GARRISON KEILLOR: That was all it was. Here's someone. Your name is?

STEPHEN HARTLAUB: Stephen Hartlaub.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Stephen Hart?

STEPHEN HARTLAUB: Hartlaub.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Hartlaub.

STEPHEN HARTLAUB: H-A-R-T-L-A-U-B.

GARRISON KEILLOR: From?

STEPHEN HARTLAUB: From Saint Paul.

GARRISON KEILLOR: From Saint Paul. And you have a poem here by heart?

STEPHEN HARTLAUB: My poem is by a French writer. I don't remember the name, unfortunately. But I memorized--

GARRISON KEILLOR: How are we going to know that this is a real poem if it's in French?

STEPHEN HARTLAUB: Translate for you. I can translate it for you if you'd like.

GARRISON KEILLOR: What is your poem and how did you come to memorize this?

STEPHEN HARTLAUB: I'm a doctorate student in French lit so that's why I memorized it among other poems.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Yeah.

STEPHEN HARTLAUB: [SPEAKING FRENCH]

GARRISON KEILLOR: The mon amour and the mon amie we understand.

[LAUGHS]

STEPHEN HARTLAUB: "What day are we? We are every day, my love. We are all of life, my friend."

GARRISON KEILLOR: A French poem. I knew if we asked enough people, we'd finally get one in a foreign language other than Swedish or Norwegian. It's about five minutes before the hour. We're going to go back to the studio in just a minute. But I have to-- I have to get a poem from this woman over here because you have been waiting a long time.

JACKIE CARTIER: I suppose.

GARRISON KEILLOR: You've been waiting since it was raining and it was raining about an hour ago.

JACKIE CARTIER: That's true.

GARRISON KEILLOR: What's your name?

JACKIE CARTIER: Jackie Cartier from Moorhead.

GARRISON KEILLOR: From Moorhead. You come down to the fair every year?

JACKIE CARTIER: No, this is the very first time.

GARRISON KEILLOR: I don't believe this.

JACKIE CARTIER: Yes.

GARRISON KEILLOR: You're from Minnesota, and this is your first time at the fair?

JACKIE CARTIER: I haven't been back in Minnesota very long so I'm taking the chance to get down while I can.

GARRISON KEILLOR: But you grew up in Minnesota?

JACKIE CARTIER: Until I was seven.

GARRISON KEILLOR: I see. And well, all right-- you have so much to make up for.

JACKIE CARTIER: That's right. I'm doing my best.

GARRISON KEILLOR: We need a guide for you to show you everything.

JACKIE CARTIER: That's right.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Don't miss the double Ferris wheel.

JACKIE CARTIER: OK.

GARRISON KEILLOR: And have you been to the livestock barns?

JACKIE CARTIER: I went down to see the big pig, yes.

GARRISON KEILLOR: You've seen Big Bernie. And been to Machinery Hill?

JACKIE CARTIER: Yes.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Don't miss under the grand, carpets, curtains, curtain rods, organs, electric organs, everything you'd want is there under the grandstand.

JACKIE CARTIER: Good. OK.

GARRISON KEILLOR: What's your poem?

JACKIE CARTIER: "Spring and Fall to a Young Child" by Gerard Manley Hopkins. "Margaret, are you grieving over goldengrove unleaving? Leaves like the things of man, you with your fresh thoughts care for, can you? Ah, as the heart grows older, it will come to such sites colder by and by, nor spare a sigh though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie. And yet you will weep and know why.

Now no matter, child, the name, sorrow's springs are the same. Nor I seen, no nor mind, expressed what heart heard of, ghost guessed. It is the plight man was born for, it is Margaret you mourn for."

GARRISON KEILLOR: Thank you. Thanks. Poem by Gerard Manley Hopkins.

Well, we have time for one more. This has to be a sort of a final poem that sums up all other poems. And that is the ultimate poem, the ultimate poem that says-- the poem that is so great that nobody else could possibly follow this poem. Is that the poem that you have?

DEBBIE HARRINGTON: No.

[LAUGHTER]

I lied.

GARRISON KEILLOR: What is your name?

DEBBIE HARRINGTON: Debbie Harrington.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Debbie, what's your poem?

DEBBIE HARRINGTON: It's "So We'll Go No More a Roving" by Byron.

GARRISON KEILLOR: Give us the first couple of lines of it.

DEBBIE HARRINGTON: So, we'll go no more a roving so late into the night, though the heart be still is loving, and the moon be still is bright." Do you want me to go on?

GARRISON KEILLOR: Yes.

DEBBIE HARRINGTON: "For the sword outwears the sheath, and the soul wears out the breast, and the heart must pause to breathe, and love itself take rest. So we'll go no more a roving."

[LAUGHS]

I'm sorry.

GARRISON KEILLOR: No, that's not part of the poem. I'm sorry. Byron never used the phrase I'm sorry in any of his poems.

DEBBIE HARRINGTON: Being a lord meant never having to say you're sorry.

GARRISON KEILLOR: I'll go no more a roving. So you're leaving the fair at this point? Are you going home?

DEBBIE HARRINGTON: I think I have to now.

GARRISON KEILLOR: No. No. All of us-- all of us are now curious about the rest of that poem, and everybody's going to go home and look it up.

DEBBIE HARRINGTON: Oh, really?

GARRISON KEILLOR: I'll go no more a roving.

DEBBIE HARRINGTON: OK, no, that's not it. I'm sorry. "And love itself have rest. Though the night-- though the night was made for loving, and the day returns too soon, yet we'll go no more a roving by the light of the moon."

GARRISON KEILLOR: Very good. Very good.

[APPLAUSE]

All right, that's our poetry festival from the Minnesota State Fair. We have half a minute. I'll close with one of my own.

Dogs don't lie. And why should I? When strangers come, they growl and bark. They know their loved ones in the dark. Now let me, by night or day, be just as filled with truth as they.