THERE'S NO PLACE LIKE THE OLD HOME AFTER ALL.
Copyright, MDCCCXCIV, by Henry J. Wehman.
Words and Music by Walter P. Keen.
When I left school long years ago, I was a wayward child,
I took delight in any sport which happened to be wild;
Kind parents never could control the mischief strong in me,
'Till, needless of their good advice, I ran away to sea.
I thought of all the happiness that now would surely come,
When I should be away from those who ruled me when at home.
But after all the weary years that since have passed away,
My thoughts return to those at home, and tearfully I say:
It may not be a mansion, with roses 'round the door;
It may not have a parlor, with carpet on the floor,
But when you're far away, in sorrow you will say,
"There's no place like the old home after all."
In many foreign lands I've been since I began to roam,
Yet I have met no friends who could compare with those at home;
There naught but loving words prevail, in sickness or in health,
And anxious parents welcome you, in poverty or wealth;
Then wayward sons and daughters have a thought for parents dear,
To-night at home your vacant chairs will cause them many a tear;
So nourish and protect them while this earth they are upon,
You'll miss the dear old folks at home when they are dead and gone.- Cho.