CONTENTMENT by Katherine Carey-Place 1878-1934

Let those complain who never knew,

                The charm of bird and tree and flower,

Let those complain of weariness,

                Who never sat ‘neath leafy bower,

But I as long as life shall last,

                Can never weary grow,

While Trees and green and flowers bloom,

                And birds can warble so.

 

Let those complain who never heard,

                The tinkle tinkle of a brook,

Nor set beside a silvery stream,

                With rod and line and hook,

For I am happy just to live,

                In this free land of ours,

With tinkling brooks and silver streams,

                And birds and trees and flowers.

 

Katherine Carey-Place 1878-1934

 

Copyright Roy Richard

BY THE SEA by Katherine Carey-Place 1878-1934

There’s a land where the sunshine is brightest,

                A land where the ocean is wide

A land where the salt air is purest,

                Wafted in on each murmuring tide.

Where the nights are a glory of moonlight.

                And the sunsets no artist can paint,

There’s a whisper of nearness to heaven,

                Like the soft spoken prayer of a saint.

 

Oh, I want to go back to its beauty,

                And live where the palms wave and sigh,

To lie where the ocean is bluest,

                And list to the sea bird’s lone cry,

Where flowers are bloomin in winter,

                And all the land is a ’thrill,

Where beauty makes it worth the living,

                Oh I want to be there, and I will.

 

Where the mocking bird sings to the sunrise,

                A sermon in songs of delight,

Where stars like millions of lanterns,

                Are hung in the temple of night,

In the Halifax land by the ocean,

                Where the air is all fragrant with dew,

Where the sun is a little more golden,

                And the sky a little more blue

 

Katherine Carey-Place 1878-1934

May 1932

 

Copyright Roy Richard

BE STRONG by Katherine Carey-Place 1878-1934

 

Be strong, let nothing disturb you,

Talk health to each person you meet,

Let your friends know you love them and trust them,

Whenever, wherever you meet,

Look to the sunny side ever,

Knowing your dreams will come true,

See success for the ones all around you,

As well as success just for you.

 

Forget past mistakes, and push forward,

To greater achievements worthwhile,

Be cheerful, be strong and be kindly,

To all whom you meet give a smile,

Be too large to fret or worry,

To noble for anger or strife,

Think well of yourself and proclaim it,

In deeds that will brighten some life.

 

Never criticize, never be selfish,

Think thought that your inner eye see,

Think harmony, health, wealth and wisdom,

It is what He would have us to be,

Just live in the faith, the world needs you,

It’s on your side so long as you’re true,

Then you’ve lived to the nest that is in you,

When you’ve done the best you could do.

 

Katherine Carey-Place 1878-1934

May 1, 1932

 

Copyright Roy Richard

BACK TO THE FARM by Katherine Carey-Place 1878-1934

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

AUTUMN by Katherine Carey-Place 1878-1934

 

Oh, Autumn, in gorgeous raiment,

                What artist is the blame?

He has daubled his colors here and there,

                In one great glory of color and prayer,

Till the woods are all aflame.

 

There are browns and deepest crimsons,

                Orange and sunny tans,

Scarlet and dim old yellows,

                Done by a Master’s hand,

It is spread for eyes to feast on,

                And it helps to understand.

 

Katherine Carey-Place 1878-1934

October 1915

 

Copyright Roy Richard

AUNT MARY’S VISIT by Katherine Carey-Place 1878-1934

 

She came to visit us at last,

                Aunt Mary sweet and dear,

How we planned to make her stay,

                A time of joy and cheer.

 

The sky was blue with, fleecy clouds,

                The bird sang loud and clear,

As if to tell Aunt Mary,

                They were happy she was here.

 

She came from out the golden west,

                Back to her girlhood home,

Once again to see the hills,

                And o’er the fields to roam,

 

To meet and greet the loved ones,

                And renew old friendships o’er,

To clasp their hands in greetings,

                As in olden days of yore.

 

Dear Aunt Mary,

                How we love her,

How we’ll miss her smile and cheer,

                How we wish that we might keep her,

Always hold her with us here.

 

For we need her wit and laughter,

                We need her understanding heart,

If we could we would not let her,

                From our home or life depart.

 

And the lessons which she taught us,

                Of patience, faith and love,

Shall be a beacon light to us,

                When she shall rest above.

 

Katherine Carey-Place 1878-1934

August 12, 1931

 

Copyright Roy Richard   

AMANDA HOOKER by Katherine Carey-Place 1878-1934

 

Nigh forty years have passed me by, I,

                                poor Amanda Hooker.                                                    

When I was young, the boys all said

                                “Amanda, is some looker.”

But all the men have passed me by,

Dear Sisters, can you tell me why?

 

I’ve read all the books on wedded bliss, just

                                how to hold their hands and kiss,

I’ve learned to cook and keep a home and

                                never from my fireside roam.

By winnin’ smiles and bashful look.

I’ve done my best, a man to hook.

 

I’ve always tried to do my duty, bought

                                creams to make myself a beauty.

I’ve spent a mint of hard earned money and

                                seems to me its mighty funny.

For after this long race I’ve ran,

I never yet have hooked a man.

 

 

Katherine Carey-Place 1878-1934

 

Copyright Roy Richard

THE OLD TIME SATURDAY NIGHT by Katherine Carey-Place 1878-1934

 

On Saturday night at our house,

                We hurry through our tea,

It isn’t now the quiet meal that once it used to be.

                The family never gather round the fireside blazing bright,

Like once they did some years ago, on every Saturday night.

 

My sister Sue is all tagged out right in her Sunday best,

                And Ma she hurries through the meal to get us kiddies dressed,

And we are told to hustle if we intend to go,

                And be on time at seven sharp, for Haskins Movie Show,

 

At last the house is quiet and Ma says, “Well they’re away.”

                Then she sighs and looks quite pensive, says, “It’s been a weary day?”

Pa saunters round the room a spell and then he says quite low,

                “Well, what we goin’ to do tonight, take in a movie show?”

 

Ma’s face is wreathed in smiles and she hurries to get dressed,

                Says, “She won’t be a minute,” and she hurries the rest.

It takes some cash, I’ll tell the world, to keep us on the go,

                For Saturday night there’s ten of us at Haskins Movie Show.

 

Well Saturday night it seems to me is different as can be.

                Once neighbors called to spend the eve directly after tea.

They played some dominos or chess, relaxed from work and care,

                But now they never call at all, because no one is there.

 

Pa says, "He thinks Jim Haskins must be a millionaire”,

                For every time our family go, most half the town is there.

I wish we had a home once more with cheery fires bright,

                And neighbors dropping to chat, with us on Saturday night.

 

Katherine Carey-Place 1878-1934

January 21, 1928

 

Copyright Roy Richard

LIFE’S COPY BOOK by Katherine Carey-Place 1878-1934

 

God gives us all a copy book,

                        At the dawn of every day,

A brand new page unsoiled and white,

                        To copy as we may.

At the top in His handwriting,

                        There’s a message we may see,

Of beauty and perfection,

                        That He wills for you and me.

 

Then let us strive with wisdom,

                        To read His message right,

To keep each page unsoiled and clean,

                        With honor, love and might,

Let us try to copy neatly,

                        Without haste, or waste, or blot,

And cheerfully go forward,

                        Contented with our lot.

 

When the days are long and weary,

                        And our burdens hard to bear,

Just remember there are thousands,

                        Who are striving everywhere,

To copy neat and accurate.

                        Pages full of heavenly cheer,

And scatter loving words and deeds,

                        The while they journey here.

 

And when the Master takes the book,

                        We do not need to say.

That hours have been wasted,

                        Nor yet too full a day.

For he will know before He looks,

                        Each task we’ve left undone,

And He will give us credit too,

                        For every honor won.

 

We need not to excuse our faults,

                        Nor tell of pain or woe,

For every trouble He has shared,

                        Each effort He will know.

Just say, Dear Lord, I did my best,

                        And weary were the tasks,

Tomorrow I will try again,

                        It’s all the Master asks.

 

Make every day a better day,

                        Good will to all you meet,

And lend a helping hand to him,

                        Who finds the hills too steep.

Just keep Life’s Copy Book unsoiled,

                        Each line therein will tell,

If we have labored all in vain,

                        If we have kept it well.

 

Katherine Carey-Place 1878-1934

 

Copyright Roy Richard

HANK JENKINS WAS MY FRIEND by Katherine Carey-Place 1878-1934

 

(Hank Jenkins – V. Rees.     Bill-Mrs. Holt)

 

Hank Jenkins was a friend of mine,

                        And Hank, he said to me,

Bill, how’d you like to take a trip,

                        Down to sunny Florida?

 

Just think it over Bill, he says,

                        I’ll run the old bus down,

And we’ll spend the winter by the sea,

                        In some sunny town,

 

We’ll get away from snow and ice,

                        Where skies are cold and gray,

And I’ll promise, Bill, I’ll bring you home,

                        Around the first of May.

 

We’ll go on a fifty-fifty base,

                        I can make it in three days,

Think the proposition over, Bill,

                        That’s the very thing Hank says.

 

Well I thought the matter over,

                        And decided it might be,

A pretty good idea,

                        And a needed for rest for me.

 

So I told Hank I’d consider,

                        The trip if he would say,

He’d get me back real early,

                        Round the first of May.

 

Why sure says Hank, I’ll get you home,

                        Why darn your hide, says he,

Seems you sort of lost your confidence,

                        In a good old Pal like me.

 

So we started out one morning,

                        When the hills were all aglow,

Never’d see a sight so handsome,

                        No matter where you’d go.

 

We drove along the smooth highways,

                        Through city, farm and town,

Thought we’d reach our destination,

                        Before the sun went down.

 

But early in the afternoon,

                        Hank says, Oh Bill, by Gee.

A relative of mine lives here,

                        I think I’d like to see.

 

Just wait a minute Bill, says he,

                        I’ll tell him who I am,

I think he’s a second cousin,

                        To my Mother’s Uncle Dan.

 

Then Hank went to have a chat,

                        He clean forgot about me,

I waited in the hot sunshine,

                        As patient as could be.

 

Each day was very much alike,

                        Ni matter where we ran,

Hank had some relations,

                        Like his Mother’s Uncle Dan.

 

He visited in the morning,

                        And he visited through the day,

To tell the truth, Hank visited,

                        Along the whole way.

 

And when his relations ran out,

                        Didn’t bother him a mite,

He started in on strangers,

                        And he visited day and night.

 

The last night on the trip Hank spied,

                        A man who seemed to be,

A havin’ trouble with his car,

                        And Hank he says to me.

 

We’d better tow him in, says he,

                        And then he scrambled down,

And hitched him on our bus,

                        And towed him into town.

 

We got to town long after dark,

                        Believe me I was glad,

‘Twas just about the longest trio,

                        I think I ever had.

 

With visitin’ friends and relatives,

                        And strangers he might seek,

Old Hank was way behind the time,

                        Two days beyond a week.

 

But winter passed and spring came on,

                        The month of May passed too,

And I am wondering what on earth,

                        Old Hank expects to do.

 

Up north my work’s neglected,

                        And my family seems to be,

All out of sorts with everything,

                        Especially with me.

 

I’d take a train back north today.

                        But Gosh Old Hanks so good,

Couldn’t find a friend just like him,

                        And I wouldn’t if I could.

 

So I’m waitin’ for the day to come,

                        When we’ll get started home,

And it’s going to a good long time,

                        Before I crave to roam.

 

To places where the sky is blue,

                        And where the sun is real,

Well, No Siree, it’s not for me,

                        If Hank is at the wheel.

 

I ain’t going to be a quitter,

                        One thing I’m going to try,

To stick to Hank through thick and thin,

                        If it takes to next July.

 

Perhaps my folks will drop me flat,

                        And I’ll feel blue, but Gee,

I’ll stick to Hank till I get home,

                        But no more trips for me.

 

Katherine Carey-Place 1878-1934

 

Copyright Roy Richard