Poems
"Youbadam" Let Us Smile The Old Musician And His Harp
"Youbadam"
Author and Source UnknownOut west they have some funny towns with funny names as well.
Now there's a place called Youbadam ten miles from where I dwell.
I rode with a conductor once, who was a substitute.
He did not know the stations, and that led to a dispute.Where do you want to go says he. Youbadam says I.
I'm not says he, then grabbing me to choke me he did try.
Jabs in the jaw, punches galore, he surely made things hum.
If you should go to Youbadam, pretend you are deaf and dumb.Next morning with my darling wife, myself I tried to square.
Not knowing that upon my coat there was a long blond hair.
She took it in her fingers to compare it with her own.
And as it was much lighter, I decided to leave home.Where did you get that hair says she. Youbadam says I.
Then forcing me upon a settee, she frescoed my right eye.
She made me yell I called for help while dodging well aimed blows.
I blame the town of Youbadam for all my grief and woes.Divorce proceedings followed, I was taken into court.
And forced to pay so much each week towards my wife's support.
She gave her testimony, it was anything but true.
Which caused the judge upon the bench to look me through and through.What brought all this about says he, Youbadam say I.
Profanity in court, says he, will land you high and dry.
I stood no show, I went below, it was a sad mishap.
I think a place like Youbadam has no right on the map.A minister called on me with intentions that were good.
He told me to go to my wife, just like a christian should.
To see us reunited was the preacher's one desire.
And then to satisfy himself, of me he did inquire.When you left town where did you go, Youbadam say I.
Don't be profane in heaven's name the good man did reply.
You're lost says he, such men as you will wind up below.
Says I, if it's like Youbadam I don't care where I go.
(Volume 2, pages 192-193)
Let Us Smile
Author and Source UnknownThe thing that goes the farthest toward making life worthwhile,
That costs the least and does the most, is just a pleasant smile.
The smile that bubbles from a heart that loves its fellow men,
Will drive away the cloud of gloom and coax the sun again.
Its full of worth and goodness, too, with manly kindness blent--
It's worth a million dollars and doesn't cost a cent.There is no room for sadness when we see a cheery smile.
It always has the same good look, it's never out of style.
It nerves us on to try again when failure makes us blue;
The dimples of encouragement are good for me and you.
It pays a high interest, for it is merely lent,
It's worth a million dollars and doesn't cost a cent.A smile comes very easy, you can wrinkle up with cheer
A hundred times before you can squeeze a soggy tear.
It ripples out, moreover, to the heart strings that will tug,
And always leaves an echo that is very like a hug.
So, smile away. Folks understand what by a smile is meant--
It's worth a million dollars and doesn't cost a cent.(Newspaper clipping found in Volume 3)
The Old Musician and His Harp
Author and Source UnknownYears have come and passed away,
Golden hairs have turned to gray.
Golden ringlets once so fair
Time has changed to silver hair.
Yes, I'm near the riverside,
Soon I'll launch upon its tide.
Soon my boat, with noiseless oar,
Safe shall pass to yonder shore.Chorus.
Bring my harp to me again.
Let me hear its gentle strain.
Let me hear its chords once more.
Ere I pass to yon bright shore.Oh these chords with wondrous power
Take me back to childhood's hour,
To that cot beside the sea
Where I knelt at mother's knee;
But that mother she has gone.
Calm she sleeps beneath the stone,
While I wonder here alone,
Sighing for a brighter home.Soon I'll be among the blest,
Where the weary are at rest,
Soon I'll tread the golden shore
Singing praises evermore;
Now my boat is on the stream,
I can see its water gleam;
Soon I'll be where angels roam,
Dear old harp, I'm going home.Now the storms of life are past,
I am safe at home at last.
Now my journey is complete,
I am singing music sweet--
O those angels, how they sing,
Glory to the Heavenly King--
And I catch their sweetest song,
Dear old harp, I'm almost home.Chorus.
My dear old harp I need no more,
I am safe on the golden shore,
I am singing music sweet--
As I walk the golden streets.(Newspaper clipping found in Volume 3)