THE HOME-TOWN

By Edgar Albert Guest

Some folks leave home for money

And some leave home for fame,

Some seek skies always sunny,

And some depart in shame.

I care not what the reason

Men travel east and west,

Or what the month or season —

The home-town is the best.

The home-town is the glad town

Where something real abides;

‘ Tis not the money-mad town

That all its spirit hides.

Though strangers scoff and flout it

And even jeer its name,

It has a charm about it

No other town can claim.

The home-town skies seem bluer

Than skies that stretch away,

The home-town friends seem truer

And kinder through the day;

And whether glum or cheery

Light-hearted or depressed,

Or struggle-fit or weary,

I like the home-town best.

Let him who will, go wander

To distant towns to live,

Of some things I am fonder

Than all they have to give.

The gold of distant places

Could not repay me quite

For those familiar faces

That keep the home-town bright.