Old “Lizzard Crick”

Ol’ “Lizzard Crick’s” the place ur me,

Away frum form an’ misery;

Away fru tanglements an’ cares,

Besettin’ sins an’ social cares,

Away frum noise an’ smoke an’ strife,

Way back amongst the simple life.

Ol’ “Lizzard Crick’s” the place fur me,

Away frum fuss an’ fillergree.

No blast of whistles rend the air,

No sob uv labor’s deep depair,

No sound of trade’s discordant note,

No graftin’ fingers at ones throat.

No peaceful nights turned into day,

No artificial great white way;

No stress or sorrers to assail

Where “Lizzard Crick” winds down the vale.

Ol’ “Lizzard Crick’s” the place to rest!

Her smile is jest the happiest

That ever wooed a mortal back

To country lane and chimney stack.

Her voice is meller like a bird,

Her song the sweetest ever heard;

Where hearts are true, an’ life is free –

Ol’ “Lizzard Crick’s” the place fur me!

March 14, 1913