FOLLOWIN’ FATHER HOME

Years ago, when I
Was jest a little lad,
An’ after school hours used to work
Around the farm with dad,
I used to be so weared out
When eventide was come,
That I got kinder anxious-like
About the journey home;
But dad, he used to lead the way,
An’ once in a while turn ’round and say,
So cheerin’ like, so tender, “Come!
Cone on, my son, you’re nearly home!”
That allers used to help me some;
An’ so I followed father home.

I’m old an’ gray and feeble now,
An’ trembly at the knee,
But life seems jest the same today
As then it seemed to me.
When eventide is come,
An’ still git kinder anxious-like
About the journey home,
But still my Father leads the way,
An’ once in a while I hear HIm say,
So cheerin’ like, so tender, “COme!
Come on my son, you’re nearly home!”
An’ same as then, that helps me some,
And so I’m follwoing Father home.

Unknown author, taken from The Sword Scrapbook