THE PROFESSIONAL WANDERER

When you’ ve knocked about the country — been away from home for years;

When the past, by distance softened, nearly fills your eyes with tears —

You are haunted oft, wherever or however you may roam,

By a fancy that you ought to go and see the folks at home.

You forget the family quarrels — little things that used to jar —

And you think of how they’ ll worry — how they wonder where you are;

You will think you served them badly, and your own part you’ ll condemn,

And it strikes you that you’ ll surely be a novelty to them,

For your voice has somewhat altered, and your face has somewhat changed —

And your views of men and matters over wider fields have ranged.

Then it’ s time to save your money, or to watch it ( how it goes! );

Then it’ s time to get a‘ Gladstone’ and a decent suit of clothes;

Then it’ s time to practise daily with a hair-brush and a comb,

Till you drop in unexpected on the folks and friends at home.

When you’ ve been at home for some time, and the novelty’ s worn off,

And old chums no longer court you, and your friends begin to scoff;

When‘ the girls’ no longer kiss you, crying‘ Jack! how you have changed!’

When you’ re stale to your relations, and their manner seems estranged;

When the old domestic quarrels, round the table thrice a day,

Make it too much like the old times — make you wish you’ d stayed away,

When, in short, you’ ve spent your money in the fulness of your heart,

And your clothes are getting shabby.... Then it’ s high time to depart.