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There's a little gray house nestled down 'neath the trees It has stood there many a year. And the roses blooming 'round the yard Send their perfume far and near And a gray hair woman sits alone On the porch when the day is done. And softly croons a lullaby As she thinks of the absent ones. For there was a time when the house was new With its trees so young and small. It so o'erflow with riotous youth It scarce could hold it all For often would the wall resound With girlish laughter sweet And there were sturdy boyish shouts And the patter of baby feet There came schooldays hurrying by With the scramble for book and slate, And the frantic search for coat and cap For fear they would be late. Then when school days are over, Each takes up his own task. Then by the window a coffin stands For death comes in masked Then the house sees happy brides Going out to make new homes so one by one they leave the nest Till mother sits alone. But once again the walls resound With girlish laughter sweet, And there are sturdy boyish shouts And the patter of baby feed. And the gray haired woman is busy now No longer she sits alone But still she hums a lullaby For the grandchildren are at home. |
