The Old Times Were The Best

By James Whitcomb Riley

Friends, my heart is half aweary

Of its happiness to-night:

Though your songs are gay and cheery,

And your spirits feather-light,

There's a ghostly music haunting

Still the heart of every guest

And a voiceless chorus chanting

That the Old Times were the best.

CHORUS

All about is bright and pleasant

With the sound of song and jest,

Yet a feeling's ever present

That the Old Times were the best.