Coll. by Max Hunter Dubbed by M.C. Parler
Mrs. Cobain Elkton, Mo. August 1959
Reel 351, Item8
Forty Years Ago
I wandered to the village, Tom,
I sat beneath the trees,
Upon the schoolhouse playing ground That sheltered you and me;
But none were left to greet me, Tom,
And few were left to know,
Who played with me upon the gree Just forty years ago.
The grass was just as green, Tom,
Where sporting just as we did then With spirite just as gay But the master sleeps on the hill Which, coated over with snow,
Afforded us a sliding place Just forty years ago.
The old school house is changed some,
The benches are replaced,
By new ones very like the same Our jack-knives have defaced,
But the same old bricks are in the wall, The bell swings to and fro,
It's music just the same,dear Tom,
'Twas forty years ago.
The spring that bubbled 'neath the hill Close by the spreading beech,
Is very low, 'twas once so high,
That we could almost reach,
And kneeling down to take a drink Dear Tom, I started so,
To think how very much I've changed Since forty years ago.
Nearby the spring, upon a elm,
You know I cut your name,
Your sweetheart's just beneath it, Tom, And you did mine the same,
Some heartless wretch has peeled the bark, 'Twas dying sure but slow,
Just as that one whose name you cut Died forty years ago.
-more-Reel 351, Item 8 Continued
My lids have long been dry, Tom,
But tears came in my eyes,
I thought of her I loved so well, Those early broken ties,
I visited the old churchyard And took some flowers to,strew Upon the graves of those we loved Just forty years ago.
Some are in the churchyard laid,
Some sleep beneath the sea,
And none are left of our old class Excepting you and me;
And when our time shall come, Tom,
And we are called to go,
I hope we'll meet with those we loved Some forty years ago.
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