A Heap O Livin | Page 6

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' bad,?Your faults an' virtues, an' have seen the struggles
you have had,?When they come to you gentle-like an' take
your hand an' say:?"Cheer up! we're with you still," it counts, for
that's the old friends' way.
The new friends may be fond of you for what
you are to-day;?They've only known you rich, perhaps, an' only
seen you gay;?You can't tell what's attracted them; your
station may appeal;?Perhaps they smile on you because you're doin'
something real;?But old friends who have seen you fail, an' also
seen you win,?Who've loved you either up or down, stuck
to you, thick or thin,?Who knew you as a budding youth, an' watched
you start to climb,?Through weal an' woe, still friends of yours
an' constant all the time,?When trouble comes an' things go wrong, I
don't care what you say,?They are the friends you'll turn to, for you
want the old friends' way.
The new friends may be richer, an' more stylish,
too, but when?Your heart is achin' an' you think your sun
won't shine again,?It's not the riches of new friends you want, it's
not their style,?It's not the airs of grandeur then, it's just the
old friend's smile,?The old hand that has helped before, stretched
out once more to you,?The old words ringin' in your ears, so sweet an',
Oh, so true!?The tenderness of folks who know just what
your sorrow means,?These are the things on which, somehow, your
spirit always leans.?When grief is poundin' at your breast -- the
new friends disappear?An' to the old ones tried an' true, you turn for
aid an' cheer.
FOLKS
We was speakin' of folks, jes' common folks,?An' we come to this