Go Back To The Farm

                                         Dedicated To Raymon Moore, the Tenor

   I.

Last night as I stood on the corner,

     A fellow both ragged and sore,

Approached me and asked me for labor,

     Who’d searched the big city all o’er.

“I’m not,” said he, “beggin’ for money,

     I’ll starve or I’ll work for my bread;”

And I saw that his face it was honest,

     And unto him kindly I said.

              Chorus

“Go back to your home, my poor fellow,

     Somebody will give you work there;

You say you’d a home once and neighbors,

     Go to them and I’ll pay your fare.

Go back to the scenes of your childhood,

     Your friends in the country are true;

Don’t stay on the streets of a city,

     There’s thousands here poorer than you”

                  II.

When I spoke of his home his eyes lightened,

     A hungry look stole to his face;

And under the glare of the gaslight

     A gentleman’s brow I could trace.

I handed him out a crisp dollar,

     His hand it shook sadly to see;

But the look that he gave me was payment,

     And with quivering voice said to me:

              Chorus

“I’ll go to my home in the country,

     Somebody will give me work there;

I haven’t a dime, yet I scorn, sir,

     To take from your kind hand the fare.

I’ll go to the scenes of my childhood,

     I’d friends there once who were true;

I will leave the cold streets of the city,

     There is work on the farm I can do.”

Aug. 12, ‘96

Pub. in B.

Courier,

Sep. 5, ‘96