The Old, Old Story

I have no wish to rail at fate, And vow that I'm unfairly treated; I do not give vent to my hate Because at times I am defeated. Life has its ups and downs, I know, But tell me why should people say Whenever after fish I go: "You should have been here yesterday"?

It is my luck always to strike A day when there is nothing doing, When neither perch, nor bass, nor pike My baited hooks will come a-wooing. Must I a day late always be? When not a nibble comes my way Must someone always say to me: "We caught a bunch here yesterday"?

I am not prone to discontent, Nor over-zealous now to climb; If victory is not yet meant For me I'll calmly bide my time. But I should like just once to go Out fishing on some lake or bay And not have someone mutter: "Oh, You should have been here yesterday."

The Pup

He tore the curtains yesterday, And scratched the paper on the wall; Ma's rubbers, too, have gone astray-- She says she left them in the hall; He tugged the table cloth and broke A fancy saucer and a cup; Though Bud and I think it a joke Ma scolds a lot about the pup.

The sofa pillows are a sight, The rugs are looking somewhat frayed, And there is ruin, left and right, That little Boston bull has made. He slept on Buddy's counterpane-- Ma found him there when she woke up. I think it needless to explain She scolds a lot about the pup.

And yet he comes and licks her hand And sometimes climbs into her lap And there, Bud lets me understand, He very often takes his nap. And Bud and I have learned to know She wouldn't give the rascal up: She's really fond of him, although She scolds a lot about the pup.

Since Jessie Died

We understand a lot of things we never did before, And it seems that to each other Ma and I are meaning more. I don't know how to say it, but since little Jessie died We have learned that to be happy we must travel side by side. You can share your joys and pleasures, but you never come to know The depth there is in loving, till you've got a common woe.

We're past the hurt of fretting--we can talk about it now: She slipped away so gently and the fever left her brow So softly that we didn't know we'd lost her, but, instead, We thought her only sleeping as we watched beside her bed. Then the doctor, I remember, raised his head, as if to say What his eyes had told already, and Ma fainted dead away.

Up to then I thought that money was the thing I ought to get; And I fancied, once I had it, I should never have to fret. But I saw that I had wasted precious hours in seeking wealth; I had made a tidy fortune, but I couldn't buy her health. And I saw this truth much clearer than I'd ever seen before: That the rich man and the poor man have to let death through the door.

We're not half so keen for money as one time we used to be; I am thinking more of mother and she's thinking more of me. Now we spend more time together, and I know we're meaning more To each other on life's journey, than we ever meant before. It was hard to understand it! Oh, the dreary nights we've cried! But we've found the depth of loving, since the day that Jessie died.