December 1927
In this old New England town
We are thinking of today
We find that we are anchored down
And cannot get away.
We love the old moss covered rock
And the hills that tower aloft
We love the thought of Pilgrim stock
That walked these vales so oft.
We love her rills in vale and wood
Where ere they chance to be
We would not change them if we could
For they are the best to me.
A fairer land in which to dwell
You’l travel far to find
And many things you’l always tell
Of those you’ve left behind.
If you have traveled to the west
To find a better place
You’l have to do your very best
Or lose in such a race.
For here is climate unsurpassed
To build a human race
That dare to do when they are massed
What others fear to face.
The ever beaming sun is bright
Some days we have the rain
We have the curtain of the night
Rolled up at morn again.
So weak and ever whining ones
Complain at winter’s chill
These days are for the one who runs
And tries to use his will.
What more can mortal man desire
With changes every day
For sure the weather will be drier
If you but longer stay.
The ever firm old Plymouth rock
Where on our Fathers landed
Relieves us from the fear of shock
And we shall not be stranded.
I’ve traveled far; I’ve traveled wide
And looked for something better
But if you want me for a guide
You’ll find me a home setter.
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