THE OLD, OLD FARM.
Copyright, 1889, by Chas. P. Bldke & Co.
Words by Gus Williams. Music by Harry Pepper.
How oft I sit and think of my childhood's happy days,
When I was home and sat at mother's knee;
And when the day was o'er, how I'd stand at the door
To watch my father coming home to tea;
To see the horses feed, to the old barn then I'd speed,
To me it was a pleasure and a charm;
How the old cow used to stand, to be milked by father's hand,
At evening, on the old, old farm.
Oh, those happy days are o'er, and they will return no more,
To think of them can surely do no harm;
When I was young and gay, and happy roamed all day
Barefooted on the old, old farm.
How the rooster'd crow each morn, to proclaim the day was born,
I almost fancy I can hear him now;
How the swallows used to fly away up in the sky,
When evening cast its shadows deep and low;
And then in bed I'd creep, to have my night's sweet sleep,
To feel there was no danger or alarm;
Those were happy days to me, which I think of tenderly,
Together with the old, old farm.-Refrain.
And when harvest time would come, in the yellow fields I'd roam,
And follow up the cradle all day long;
How we used to stack the wheat, with a sheaf on top so neat.
While the blackbirds used to cheer us with their song.
And the robin with her young, how oft I've heard her song,
Up in the tree secure from every harm;
Oh, how still, how peacefully Sunday always seemed to be,
At home upon the old, old farm.-Refrain.