Just Folks | Page 8

we have changed from what we were; we're not the carefree lot we
were; Our hearts are filled with sorrow now and grave concern and pain,
But it is good to see once more, the blooming lilac tree once more, And
find the constant roses here to comfort us again.
A Patriotic Creed
To serve my country day by day
At any humble post I may;
To
honor and respect her flag,
To live the traits of which I brag;
To be

American in deed
As well as in my printed creed.
To stand for truth and honest toil,
To till my little patch of soil,
And
keep in mind the debt I owe
To them who died that I might know

My country, prosperous and free,
And passed this heritage to me.
I always must in trouble's hour
Be guided by the men in power;
For
God and country I must live,
My best for God and country give;
No
act of mine that men may scan
Must shame the name American.
To do my best and play my part,
American in mind and heart;
To
serve the flag and bravely stand
To guard the glory of my land;
To
be American in deed:
God grant me strength to keep this creed!
Home
The road to laughter beckons me,
The road to all that's best;
The
home road where I nightly see
The castle of my rest;
The path
where all is fine and fair,
And little children run,
For love and joy
are waiting there
As soon as day is done.
There is no rich reward of fame
That can compare with this:
At
home I wear an honest name,
My lips are fit to kiss.
At home I'm
always brave and strong,
And with the setting sun
They find no
trace of shame or wrong
In anything I've done.
There shine the eyes that only see
The good I've tried to do;
They
think me what I'd like to be;
They know that I am true.
And
whether I have lost my fight
Or whether I have won,
I find a faith
that I've been right
As soon as day is done.
The Old-Time Family
It makes me smile to hear 'em tell each other nowadays
The burdens
they are bearing, with a child or two to raise. Of course the cost of

living has gone soaring to the sky
And our kids are wearing garments
that my parents couldn't buy. Now my father wasn't wealthy, but I
never heard him squeal
Because eight of us were sitting at the table
every meal.
People fancy. they are martyrs if their children number three, And four
or five they reckon makes a large-sized family.
A dozen hungry
youngsters at a table I have seen
And their daddy didn't grumble
when they licked the platter clean. Oh, I wonder how these mothers and
these fathers up-to-date Would like the job of buying little shoes for
seven or eight.
We were eight around the table in those happy days back them, Eight
that cleaned our plates of pot-pie and then passed them up again; Eight
that needed shoes and stockings, eight to wash and put to bed, And
with mighty little money in the purse, as I have said,
But with all the
care we brought them, and through all the days of stress, I never heard
my father or my mother wish for less.
The Job
The job will not make you, my boy;
The job will not bring you to
fame
Or riches or honor or joy
Or add any weight to your name.

You may fail or succeed where you are,
May honestly serve or may
rob;
From the start to the end
Your success will depend
On just
what you make of your job.
Don't look on the job as the thing
That shall prove what you're able to
do;
The job does no more than to bring
A chance for promotion to
you.
Men have shirked in high places and won
Very justly the jeers
of the mob;
And you'll find it is true
That it's all up to you
To say
what shall come from the job.
The job is an incident small;
The thing that's important is man.
The
job will not help you at all
If you won't do the best that you can.
It
is you that determines your fate,
You stand with your hand on the

knob
Of fame's doorway to-day,
And life asks you to say
Just
what you will make of your job.
Toys
I can pass up the lure of a jewel to wear
With never the trace of a sigh,

The things on a shelf that I'd like for myself
I never regret I can't
buy.
I can go through the town passing store after store
Showing
things it would please me to own,
With never a trace of despair on
my face,
But I can't let a toy shop alone.
I can throttle the love of fine raiment to death
And I don't know the
craving for rum,
But I do know the joy that is born of a toy,
And the
pleasure that comes with a drum
I can reckon the value of money at
times,
And govern my purse