THE OLD DOOR-BELL.
Copyright, 1896, by Lane, Cole & Co.
Words by Rodger Harding. Music by Ned Cole.
I remember, when a boy,
It would fill my heart with joy
To ring that old door-bell, then run behind the big oak tree;
'Twould be my heart's delight,
To lie there out of sight,
And hear them wonder who the scamp might be.
My mother dear to me,
As though to-day. I see,
Looking for the culprit all in vain,
And when she'd close the door,
I would creep up as before,
And I'd ring that old front-door bell once again.
Do we keep the mem'ry of our life's spring-time
Fresh and green, or do we let them fade?
In the busy bustle of the world's mad rash,
Are those childish thoughts forever laid?
Just because we know the world a little more,
Just because we've learned life's lesson well;
Have we e'er regret, do we not remember yet,
How in childish glee we rang that old door-bell!
I recall to mind the day
That my father went away,
For poverty, the poor man's foe, was knocking at the door;
It broke poor mother's heart
From father thus to part,
At he left her there to seek a foreign shore.
One day a message came,
Addressed to mother's name.
At she read, her face turned pale with pain,
My father was no more,
He had reached the golden shore,
And I never rang that old door-bell again.- Chorus.