When Day is Done | Page 9

worth while;?Go home light of heart and of mind;?Go home and be glad that you're loved as a dad,?A dad of the fun-loving kind.
He's Taken Out His Papers
He's taken out his papers, an' he's just like you an' me.?He's sworn to love the Stars and Stripes an' die for it, says he. An' he's done with dukes an' princes, an' he's done with kings an' queens, An' he's pledged himself to freedom, for he knows what freedom means.
He's bought himself a bit of ground, an', Lord, he's proud an' glad! For in the land he came from that is what he never had.?Now his kids can beat his writin', an' they're readin' books, says he, That the children in his country never get a chance to see.
He's taken out his papers, an' he's prouder than a king:?"It means a lot to me," says he, "just like the breath o' spring, For a new life lies before us; we've got hope an' faith an' cheer; We can face the future bravely, an' our kids don't need to fear."
He's taken out his papers, an' his step is light to-day,?For a load is off his shoulders an' he treads an easier way; An' he'll tell you, if you ask him, so that you can understand, Just what freedom means to people who have known some other land.
Castor Oil
I don't mind lickin's, now an' then,?An' I can even stand it when?My mother calls me in from play?To run some errand right away.?There's things 'bout bein' just a boy?That ain't all happiness an' joy,?But I suppose I've got to stand?My share o' trouble in this land,?An' I ain't kickin' much--but, say,?The worst of parents is that they?Don't realize just how they spoil?A feller's life with castor oil.
Of all the awful stuff, Gee Whiz!?That is the very worst there is.?An' every time if I complain,?Or say I've got a little pain,?There's nothing else that they can think?'Cept castor oil for me to drink.?I notice, though, when Pa is ill,?That he gets fixed up with a pill,?An' Pa don't handle Mother rough?An' make her swallow nasty stuff;?But when I've got a little ache,?It's castor oil I've got to take.
I don't mind goin' up to bed?Afore I get the chapter read;?I don't mind being scolded, too,?For lots of things I didn't do;?But, Gee! I hate it when they say,?"Come! Swallow this--an' right away!"?Let poets sing about the joy?It is to be a little boy,?I'll tell the truth about my case:?The poets here can have my place,?An' I will take their life of-toil?If they will take my castor oil.
A Father's Wish
What do I want my boy to be??Oft is the question asked of me,?And oft I ask it of myself--?What corner, niche or post or shelf?In the great hall of life would I?Select for him to occupy??Statesman or writer, poet, sage?Or toiler for a weekly wage,?Artist or artisan? Oh, what?Is to become his future lot??For him I do not dare to plan;?I only hope he'll be a man.
I leave it free for him to choose?The tools of life which he shall use,?Brush, pen or chisel, lathe or wrench,?The desk of commerce or the bench,?And pray that when he makes his choice?In each day's task he shall rejoice.?I know somewhere there is a need?For him to labor and succeed;?Somewhere, if he be clean and true,?Loyal and honest through and through,?He shall be fit for any clan,?And so I hope he'll be a man.
I would not build my hope or ask?That he shall do some certain task,?Or bend his will to suit my own;?He shall select his post alone.?Life needs a thousand kinds of men,?Toilers and masters of the pen,?Doctors, mechanics, sturdy hands?To do the work which it commands,?And wheresoe'er he's pleased to go,?Honor and triumph he may know.?Therefore I must do all I can?To teach my boy to be a man.
No Better Land Than This
If I knew a better country in this glorious world today?Where a man's work hours are shorter and he's drawing bigger pay, If the Briton or the Frenchman had an easier life than mine, I'd pack my goods this minute and I'd sail across the brine. But I notice when an alien wants a land of hope and cheer,?And a future for his children, he comes out and settles here.
Here's the glorious land of Freedom! Here's the milk and honey goal For the peasant out of Russia, for the long-subjected Pole. It is here the sons of Italy and men of Austria turn?For the comfort of their bodies and the wages they can earn. And with all that men complain of, and with all that goes amiss, There's no happier, better nation on the world's broad face than this.
So I'm thinking when I listen to the wails of discontent,?And some foreign disbeliever spreads his evil sentiment,?That