THE POPCORN VENDER

The popcorn vender is a man
Who needs no special art,
But two strong arms and sturdy legs
He needs to push his cart.

He trudges 'long his daily route
With slow determined pace,
And now and then he halts to wipe
His hot perspiring face.

The children playing near their homes
Observes him on the street,
And with a coin clasped in their hand,
They scampers for their treat.

He serves each one a bag of corn
So crispy, moist and sweet,
And with a smile for every child,
He proceeds along his beat.

The children are his customers,
He never robs or cheats,
At every block the youngsters flock
The popcorn man to greet.

And when the sun has sank to rest,
He homeward wends his way,
And there he rests his aching feet
Until another day.

OLD SAILOR BILL

Old Bill he always loved the sea,
He was a sailor bold,
Until he had to stay on shore
As he was growing old.

He never had no family cares,
And never wooed a wife;
The sea was his ambition
And it shared his daily life.

He used to stroll down to the quay
Each day and sit around,
To watch the busy harbour tugs,
And ships all outward bound.

He loved the sea, he loved the ships,
And sitting there each day,
He fancied he could feel the splash
Of flying spume and spray.

He crossed the ocean many times,
And sailed the seven seas,
Oftimes at night in dreams he saw
White topsails in the breeze.

The young lads they would gather 'round,
And listen to his tales
Of far off lands where he had been,
And shipwrecks, storms and gales.

One day they found him very still
With head bowed on his chest,
Old Bill had ended his last voyage,
And reached his port of rest.

THE POSTMAN

When the postman ventures out
On his early morning route,
With mailbag filled with all the latest mail;
In the winter's snow or sleet,
Or mid summer's scorching heat,
Every packet he'll deliver without fail.

He carries papers, magazines,
Catalogues and various things,
And letters stacked so neatly by the score;
He's as punctual as a clock,
And there is no need to knock
As he quickly slips a letter through the door.

Many blocks he has to walk,
And he hasn't time to talk,
As he mounts the many steps along the street;
Every letter must go through
Be they many or just few,
When the bag is empty, then his job's complete.

What at last he homeward trot
With the last letter through the slot,
He has a cheerio for every one,
And at home when off his beat
As he rests his tired feet,
He's content to know his days work was well done.

THE OLD PLOUGH HORSE

"My master, I am just an old plough horse,
I toils each day and tries to do my best
To pay you for my upkeep and my food,
And for my stall where every night I rest."

"Although I am so dumb and cannot speak,
Yet I am quick to learn and understand,
It cheers me up to hear a kindly word,
Or feel the pat of a kind and friendly hand."

"Make sure my harness fit and will not chafe,
And that I am well shod and groomed each day,
Encourage me with kindly words, and I
Will do my best each day my debt to pay."

"When day is done and safely in my stall
I chew my evening meal of oats or hay,
It's then I'm filled with sweet content to know
I did my duty well again today."

"Then through the silent night I doze and sleep,
And in my dreams I see green pastures fair,
A kingdom for dumb creatures such as me
Where old plough horses graze throughout the year."

"My master when I am too old to work,
Or laid aside and gone to my last rest,
You'll think of me sometimes, a faithful friend
Who toiled for you and tried to do his best."

SPRING CLEANING

Spring cleaning time will soon be here,
On this I'm most emphatic,
Then everything will be disturbed
From cellar to the attic.

Housewives will don their dust caps then,
To start their overhauling,
And busy brushing cobwebs down,
Or from step ladders falling.

The vacuum cleaners soon will hum,
And dust they will be chasing,
All paintwork will be washed so clean,
The doors, the walls and casing.

The pantry shelves will all be cleaned,
The pie plates and the custard,
And everything put back in place
From pepper pots to mustard.

The winter woolies will be stored
With moth balls in the closets,
To keep the pesky little moths
From leaving their deposits.

House cleaning is a lot of work
As I have here presented,
But when the job it is well done
The housewife sleeps contented.

April, 1944

SPRINGTIME

Spring, gentle spring is earth's rare gem,
And time's vast calendar
Show many days when spring displays
Rare beauty near and far.

How beautiful creation is
When vernal spring is here,
Lilacs in bloom and catkins's plume
Spreads beauty far and near.

The gardener with the hoe and spade
Toils through the sunny hours,
And soon the earth by a rebirth
Repays him with fair flowers.

The farmer with his horse and plow
And harrow tills the sod,
By honest toil he seeds the soil,
and trust it's growth with God.

How wonderful creation is
To those who love the spring,
May all rejoice with heart and voice,
And with the songbirds sing.

ODDS AND ENDS

When clearing out the bureau drawers
As the busy housewife cleans,
She finds a lot of odds and ends,
Let's listen as she gleans.

"Here is a recipe I had
To make my Christmas cake,
And here's a letter I received
Last year from cousin Jake."

"Here is a ball of mending wool,
A box of carpet tacks;
Some score cards used in playing bridge,
A marble and some jacks."

"An old worn deck of playing cards,
A ball of coloured twine,
My smelling salts I thought was lost;
It all turns up in time."

"How all this stuff accumulates
It's more than I can say,
But bureau drawers is just the place
For hiding things away."

SUCCESS AND FAILURE

Through all our days while life shall last
We'll have our expectations,
However noble be our task.
Or lowly be our stations;
Whatever talent we possess
Sometimes we'll fail to meet success
In all our life's vocations.

We often fail to do our best,
Despite our best endeavour,
While others always pass the test,
Although they seem less clever;
Then in discouragement may say,
"Why is it that I toil each day,
And meet with failure ever?"

It's then we need more courage, and
Stedfast determination,
To carry on, to work and plan
To reach our estimation;
And having done our very best,
Our work may be crowned with success
Beyond our expectation.

So let us strive and never shirk
To do what is worth trying,
We'll find more pleasure in our work,
Less time for mournful sighing,
And when our call will come to rest,
Then having done our very best,
'Twill comfort us in dying.

WATCH YOUR STEP

Watch your step, it is a warning,
And advice to one and all,
For it's when you're not expecting
You may have your greatest fall.

Watch your step when on life's highway,
And each stage of life unfold,
Loiter not in any by-way
But press on towards your goal.

Watch your step and set then firmly
In the way that's planned for you,
And the signposts pointing onward
They will safely guide you through.

Watch your step in your vocation
Use precaution it is best,
Many are the broken bodies
Laid aside though carelessness.

A FISHERMAN'S PRAYER

Great Pilot of the restless sea
By Thee were all our fathers led,
Grant me success from day to day,
That I may earn my daily bread.

'Twas in a little fishing boat
Close by the shores of Galilee,
Where Thou once sat and taught the folk,
And humble fishermen like me.

And on the Galilean sea
When winds blew strong and waves raged high,
Thou hear Thy faint disciples call,
And answered "Fear not, it is I."

Protect me through the gloomy night
When skies above are overcast,
My little boat it seems so small
Upon Thine ocean wide and vast.

Strengthen my will when toil seems vain,
Uphold me when my courage fail,
And may I hear they still small voice
Both in the calm and raging gale.

And when at last my voyage is done,
When my last fishing trip is o'er,
Then master as I hear the strand
May I behold thee on the shore.

Then pilot me safe home at last
Into that Port of quiet rest,
Where I shall find safe anchorage
From every storm that cause unrest.

September, 1945

A STITCH IN TIME

The careless man is quick to plan,
But put things off from day to day,
And as time flies he seldom tries
To do his chores without delay.

As time goes by you'll hear him cry,
"Some day when I'll have less to do,
I'll mend that chair that need repair,
And make it almost good as new."

Until one day that chair gives way
Beneath his heavy avoirdupois,
It's only good for firewood
As on the floor a wreck it lies.

A stitch in time saves eight or nine.
Time never waits for anyone,
Let's never shirk our daily work
And take delight in jobs well done.

Time that's well spent oft' brings content
To him who plys his daily toil,
and little things so often brings
Delight to know it was worth while.

January, 1948

THE BUSY HOUSEWIFE

Did you ever stop to ponder
What a housewife has to do?
Many are her household duties,
And I'll try to name a few.

She is up betimes each morning
And the breakfast she prepare,
Ready for her daily routine,
And another day of care.

Washing, ironing, knitting, sewing,
Bringing groceries from the store.
Baking, scrubbing, sweeping, dusting,
Shaking rugs 'til arms are sore.

Answering phone calls, and the door bell
Keeps her running to and fro,
Breadman, milkman, boy with paper
All comes looking for their 'dough'.

Chasing dust with vacuum cleaner,
Sweeping up the basement floor,
Brushing leaves from off the pavement,
Cleaning brasswork on the door.

Nursing Junior through his illness
Making up the family beds,
Cleaning paintwork, washing dishes,
Listening when the postman treads.

Getting ready for some social,
Or Red Cross work she may do,
Working for the church's needy
Helping with the faithful few.

When at last she seeks her pillow
And beside her bed she pray,
She may breathe a prayer in silence
For some loved one far away.

Yes, the housewives that are thrifty
All who toil each day so hard,
In this world or in the next, they
All deserve a just reward.