When You and I Were Young, Maggie.
I wander, to-day, to the hill, Maggie, to watch the scenes below;
The creek and the creaking old mill, Maggie, as we used to, long ago.
The green grove has gone from the hill, Maggie, where first the daisies sprung;
The creaking old mill is still, Maggie, since you and I were young.
And now we are aged and gray, Maggie, and the trials of life nearly done;
Let us sing of the days that are gone, Maggie, when you and I were young.
A city so silent and lone, Maggie, where the young and the gay and the best
In polished white mansions of stone, Maggie, have each found a place of rest,
Is built where the birds used to play, Maggie, and join in the songs that were eung,
For we sang as gay as they, Maggie, When you and I were young.-Chorus.
They say I am feeble with age, Maggie, my steps are less sprightly than then;
My face is a well-written page, Maggie, but time alone was the pen.
They say we are aged and: gray, Maggie, as sprays by the white breakers flung.
But to me you're as fair as you were, Maggie, when you and I were young.-Chor.