You may talk about your city,
With
its hurry, strife and noise,
Its great white ways and theatres,
Its
social life and joys.
The place you dine, the temple grand,
The
club you proudly boast,
The hurry and confusion,
And
the things you like the most.
But I am here to tell you,
If
you want to taste real charm,
Just turn you back on cities,
Make
a visit to the farm,
Why you’re going to have the pleasure,
Where
ever it may be,
Of knowing real enjoyment,
And
hospitality.
You’re going to get a welcome,
And
a handclasp that is true,
Not weighted by clothes nor money,
Nor
the kind of work you do,
But a real old-fashioned greeting,
Full
of pleasure and food fare,
That will thrill you o’er and o’er,
The
while you visit there.
You’re going to know the gladness,
Of
a real old-fashioned rest,
And taste the old-time cooking,
That
you used to like the best,
The chicken fried in golden brown,
With
biscuits light and neat,
A swimming in the gravy,
That
no city chef can beat.
With golden corn, right on the ear,
And
early fresh green peas,
Potatoes in a snowy heap.
And
honey made from bees.
A welcome that renews your years,
With
its simple grace and charm,
If you want to taste these pleasures,
Make
a visit to the farm.
Katherine Carey-Place 1878-1934
Copyright Roy Richard
No comments:
Post a Comment