WHEN THE FAMILY COMES HOME TO EAT


(Dedicated to My Seven and the Southeastern State Teachers College, Durant, Oklahoma)


 Of all the times that are jolly,
 Of all the times that are sweet,
 'Tis the evening time, the home-coming time,
 When the family comes home to eat.
 
 They're off to school in the morning,
 As it points to eight on the clock;
 And it's hurry, hurry, hurry -
 You can hear them leaving a block,
 Calling "Mama!  Mama!  Mama!
 Is my lunch fixed?  Where's my cap?"
 
 "'Tis here my child, are you ready?
 You had better take a wrap,
 For this is not West Virginia,
 But Oklahoma here -
 It may be warm in the morning;
 By night, a 'norther' drear."
 
 So off they go to Southeastern,
 So happy and carefree and gay,
 And Dad is the last to hasten,
 As to office he wends his way.
 
 And Mother is left with the "house-keeping bag"
 Through all the long, long day;
 Now this "house-keeping bag" is an endless thing,
 As no one really knows
 But those who have held it many a year,
 Through springs and summers and snows.
 
 It is great to be a mother;
 It is greater to be a man;
 Our children are difficult problems;
 Let anyone solve them who can.
 We dread to look at the future,
 When they're scattered far and wide,
 To all four points of the compass,
 And three other points beside.
 
 And Mother and Dad sit listening,
 To passers-by on the street,
 And surely are sad and lonely,
 When no one comes home to eat.
 Life has many a worry,
 At school, at home, in the "street",
 But it has its compensations,
 Whenever we chance to meet.
 
 But when the sun goes down in the evening
 And the earth and the sky-line meet,
 Of all the times that are jolly,
 Of all the times that are sweet -
 'Tis the evening time, the home-coming time,
 When the family comes home to eat.
 
 By Mrs. Wm. F. Tyree (Durant, Oklahoma, 1921)


 

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