A Heap O Livin | Page 6

in it;
Within the walls there's got t' be some babies
born, and then
Right there ye've got t' bring 'em up t' women

good, an' men;
And gradjerly as time goes on, ye find ye
wouldn't part
With anything they ever used -- they've grown
into yer heart:
The old high chairs, the playthings, too, the
little shoes they wore
Ye hoard; an' if ye could ye'd keep the
thumbmarks
on the door.
Ye've got t' weep t' make it home, ye've got t'
sit an' sigh
An' watch beside a loved one's bed, an' know
that Death is nigh;
An' in the stillness o' the night t' see Death's
angel come,
An' close the eyes o' her that smiled, an' leave
her sweet voice dumb.
Fer these are scenes that grip the heart, an'
when yer tears are dried,
Ye find the home is dearer than it was, an'
sanctified;
An' tuggin' at ye always are the pleasant
memories
O' her that was an' is no more -- ye can't escape
from these.
Ye've got t' sing an' dance fer years, ye've got
t' romp an' play,
An' learn t' love the things ye have by usin' 'em
each day;
Even the roses 'round the porch must blossom
year by year
Afore they 'come a part o' ye, suggestin'

someone dear
Who used t' love 'em long ago, an' trained 'em
jes t' run
The way they do, so's they would get the early
mornin' sun;
Ye've got t' love each brick an' stone from
cellar up t' dome:
It takes a heap o' livin' in a house t' make it
home.
THE PATH THAT LEADS TO HOME
The little path that leads to home,
That is the road for me,
I know
no finer path to roam,
With finer sights to see.
With thoroughfares
the world is lined
That lead to wonders new,
But he who treads
them leaves behind
The tender things and true.
Oh, north and south and east and west
The crowded roadways go,

And sweating brow and weary breast
Are all they seem to know.

And mad for pleasure some are bent,
And some are seeking fame,

And some are sick with discontent,
And some are bruised and lame.
Across the world the gleaming steel
Holds out its lure for men,
But
no one finds his comfort real
Till he comes home again.
And
charted lanes now line the sea
For weary hearts to roam,
But, Oh,
the finest path to me
Is that which leads to home.
'Tis there I come to laughing eyes
And find a welcome true;
'Tis
there all care behind me lies
And joy is ever new.
And, Oh, when
every day is done
Upon that little street,
A pair of rosy youngsters
run
To me with flying feet.
The world with myriad paths is lined
But one alone for me,
One
little road where I may find
The charms I want to see.
Though
thoroughfares majestic call
The multitude to roam,
I would not

leave, to know them all,
The path that leads to home.
A FRIEND'S GREETING
I'd like to be the sort of friend that you have
been to me;
I'd like to be the help that you've been always
glad to be;
I'd like to mean as much to you each minute
of the day
As you have meant, old friend of mine, to me
along the way.
I'd like to do the big things and the splendid
things for you,
To brush the gray from out your skies and
leave them only blue;
I'd like to say the kindly things that I so oft
have heard,
And feel that I could rouse your soul the way
that mine you've stirred.
I'd like to give you back the joy that you have
given me,
Yet that were wishing you a need I hope will
never be;
I'd like to make you feel as rich as I, who
travel on
Undaunted in the darkest hours with you to
lean upon.
I'm wishing at this Christmas time that I could
but repay
A portion of the gladness that you've strewn

along my way;
And could I have one wish this year, this only
would it be:
I'd like to be the sort of friend that you have
been to me.
A SONG
None knows the day that friends must part
None knows how near is
sorrow;
If there be laughter in your heart,
Don't hold it for
to-morrow.
Smile all the smiles you can to-day;
Grief waits for all
along the way.
To-day is ours for joy and mirth;
We may be sad to-morrow;
Then
let us sing for all we've worth,
Nor give a thought to sorrow.
None
knows what lies along the way;
Let's smile what smiles we can
to-day.
OLD FRIENDS
I do not say new friends are not considerate and
true,
Or that their smiles ain't genuine, but still I'm
tellin' you
That when a feller's heart is crushed and achin'
with the pain,
And teardrops come a-splashin' down his cheeks
like summer rain,
Becoz his grief an' loneliness are more than
he can bear,
Somehow it's only old friends, then, that really
seem to care.
The friends who've stuck through thick an'
thin, who've known you, good an'