THE OLD HICKORY CANE.
Copyright, 1888, by H. T. Merrill.
Words by Josephine Furman. Music by H. T. Merrill.
How well I remember when I was a boy [or girl],
We lived in the old-fashioned home;
The chimney was deep, and the stone hearth was broad,
The fire-dogs how brightly they shone.
The spirit of mischief seemed ever in play;
We tried to keep still, but in vain;
The signal for quiet I ne'er shall forget-
The thump of the old hick'ry cane.
The old hick'ry cane, the old hick'ry cane,
The cane that is knotty and worn;
Our father's companion, the staff of his Eye
Its absence he ne'er could have borne.
Twas pleasant when living far out on the farm;
How welcome the old dinner-horn;
The long winter evenings brought cider and fruit.
And popping of chestnuts and corn.
We thought it a treat when, with hand on his cane.
Our father a story would tell;
Each eye would be bent on his good-natured face;
Ah! me, I remember it well.- Chorus.
The high-backed, old arm-chair looks silent and lone;
His Bible is lying there still.
For time laid the snows of old age on his head,
And bent the tall form to his will.
A niche in the corner still holds the old cane;
The hand that caressed it is cold;
We laid him to rest, but, still, ever we keep
The cane that is knotty and old.- Chorus.