LITTLE MAGGIE MAGEE.
Copyright, 1881, by White-Smith Music Publishing Co.
Words and Music by Loren Bragdon.
I love to think but when a boy, I lived upon a farm,
And roamed its fields, its hills and dales, to me always a charm;
I loved to bring the cattle home when night was coming on,
To shelter them from cold and storm while waiting for the dawn;
The old farm house that used to stand upon the emerald hill.
Its little rooms beneath the thatch, where birds their songs would trill;
The grand old oak was dearer than all else could be to me,
For 'neath its branches she would swing, little Maggie Magee!
Singing, swinging, little Maggie Magee!
Always so happy, light-hearted and tree!
Singing, swinging in the old swing with me,
We were so happy under the old oak tree!
But years have fled and nothing's left, but mem'ry dear to me,
Of that old home upon the farm, from world and care so free,
The grand old oak that sheltered us, in time of childish glee,
Still shelters one from raging storm, her soul at rest would be!
Beneath the branches she is laid, close by the dear old swing,
Then life was but a golden dream, then birds their songs would sing;
But tho' the years have passed away, and nothing's left to me
But one sweet face that angels loved, little Maggie Magee!-Chorus.