Part 3 (2/2)

At home I'm always brave and strong, And with the setting sun They find no trace of shame or wrong In anything I've done.

There s.h.i.+ne the eyes that only see The good I've tried to do; They think me what I'd like to be; They know that I am true.

And whether I have lost my fight Or whether I have won, I find a faith that I've been right As soon as day is done.

The Old-Time Family

It makes me smile to hear 'em tell each other nowadays The burdens they are bearing, with a child or two to raise.

Of course the cost of living has gone soaring to the sky And our kids are wearing garments that my parents couldn't buy.

Now my father wasn't wealthy, but I never heard him squeal Because eight of us were sitting at the table every meal.

People fancy they are martyrs if their children number three, And four or five they reckon makes a large-sized family.

A dozen hungry youngsters at a table I have seen And their daddy didn't grumble when they licked the platter clean.

Oh, I wonder how these mothers and these fathers up-to-date Would like the job of buying little shoes for seven or eight.

We were eight around the table in those happy days back them, Eight that cleaned our plates of pot-pie and then pa.s.sed them up again; Eight that needed shoes and stockings, eight to wash and put to bed, And with mighty little money in the purse, as I have said, But with all the care we brought them, and through all the days of stress, I never heard my father or my mother wish for less.

The Job

The job will not make you, my boy; The job will not bring you to fame Or riches or honor or joy Or add any weight to your name.

You may fail or succeed where you are, May honestly serve or may rob; From the start to the end Your success will depend On just what you make of your job.

Don't look on the job as the thing That shall prove what you're able to do; The job does no more than to bring A chance for promotion to you.

Men have s.h.i.+rked in high places and won Very justly the jeers of the mob; And you'll find it is true That it's all up to you To say what shall come from the job.

The job is an incident small; The thing that's important is man.

The job will not help you at all If you won't do the best that you can.

It is you that determines your fate, You stand with your hand on the k.n.o.b Of fame's doorway to-day, And life asks you to say Just what you will make of your job.

Toys

I can pa.s.s up the lure of a jewel to wear With never the trace of a sigh, The things on a shelf that I'd like for myself I never regret I can't buy.

I can go through the town pa.s.sing store after store Showing things it would please me to own, With never a trace of despair on my face, But I can't let a toy shop alone.

I can throttle the love of fine raiment to death And I don't know the craving for rum, But I do know the joy that is born of a toy, And the pleasure that comes with a drum I can reckon the value of money at times, And govern my purse strings with sense, But I fall for a toy for my girl or my boy And never regard the expense.

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