Where Children Play

On every street there's a certain place

Where the children gather to romp and race;

There's a certain house where they meet in throngs

To play their games and to sing their songs,

And they trample the lawn with their busy feet

And they scatter their playthings about the street,

But though some folks order them off, I say,

Let the house be mine where the children play.

Armies gather about the door

And fill the air with their battle roar;

Cowboys swinging their lariat loops

Dash round the house with the wildest whoops,

And old folks have to look out when they

Are holding an Indian tribe at bay,

For danger may find them on flying feet,

Who pass by the house where the children meet.

There are lawns too lovely to bear the weight

Of a troop of boys when they roller skate;

There are porches fine that must never know

The stamping of footsteps that come and go,

But on every street there's a favorite place

Where the children gather to romp and race,

And I'm glad in my heart that it's mine to say

Ours is the house where the children play.