MY DEAR OLD VILLAGE HOME.
Copyright, 1894, by H. R. Baaler.
Words by M. Josie Menke. Music by Horace K. Basler.
In a pretty vine clad cottage from the city far away,
Childhood's days in peace and happiness I spent:
But the glitter of the city tempted me from home to stray.
On winning fame and fortune I was bent;
My mother begged me to remain; "Dear boy," she said, "you'll rue
The day that you were tempted first to roam."
But I heeded not her warning, and with many fond adieu,
I departed from my dear old village home.
In gladness or in sorrow I never can forget
That humble spot wherever I may roam;
Recollection in its train brings the hopes and joys again,
That cling round me in my dear old village home.
In the city's mad contention fortune marked me for her own,
Wealth and all its shining glories soon were mine;
Ev'ry obstacle arising in my path was overthrown,
And nothing my ambition could confine.
"Mother, dear." I wrote, "your prophecy can never now come true,
In the sea of life no breakers round me foam;
I am wealthy now and honored, and the day I cannot rue.
When I left you and my dear old village home." - Chorus.
But alas for fickle fortune! days of panic came at last,
Ev'ry dollar that I had was swept away:
Desperation seized upon me, many sleepless nights I passed,
And thoughts of self-destruction long held sway.
Then a gentle mood stole o'er me, mother's voice I heard in dreams,
As it sounded when she begged me not to roam:
And I left the heartless city, with its struggling and Its schemes,
And found solace In my dear old village home.- Chorus.