THE BATTLING DAYS

So, sit you down in a straight-backed chair, with your pipe and your wife content,

And cross your knees with your wisest air, and preach of the‘ days mis-spent;’

Grown fat and moral apace, old man! you prate of the change‘ since then’—

In spite of all, I’ d as lief be back in those hard old days again.

They were hard old days; they were battling days; they were cruel at times — but then,

In spite of all, I would rather be back in those hard old days again.

The land was barren to sow wild oats in the days when we sowed our own —

(‘ Twas little we thought or our friends believed that ours would ever be sown )

But the wild oats wave on their stormy path, and they speak of the hearts of men —

I would sow a crop if I had my time in those hard old days again.

We travel first, or we go saloon — on the planned-out trips we go,

With those who are neither rich nor poor, and we find that the life is slow;

It’ s‘ a pleasant trip’ where they cried,‘ Good luck!’ There was fun in the steerage then —

In spite of all, I would fain be back in those vagabond days again.

On Saturday night we’ ve a pound to spare — a pound for a trip down town —

We took more joy in those hard old days for a hardly spared half-crown;

We took more pride in the pants we patched than the suits we have had since then —

In spite of all, I would rather be back in those comical days again.

’ Twas We and the World — and the rest go hang — as the Outside tracks we trod;

Each thought of himself as a man and mate, and not as a martyred god;

The world goes wrong when your heart is strong — and this is the way with men —

The world goes right when your liver is white, and you preach of the change

‘ since then.’