Good-Children Street

There's a dear little home in Good-Children street -My heart turneth fondly to-dayWhere tinkle of tongues and patter of feetMake sweetest of music at play;Where the sunshine of love illumines each face5And warms every heart in that old-fashioned place.

For dear little children go romping aboutWith dollies and tin tops and drums,And, my! how they frolic and scamper and shoutTill bedtime too speedily comes!10Oh, days they are golden and days they are fleetWith little folk living in Good-Children street.

See, here comes an army with guns painted red,And swords, caps, and plumes of all sorts;The captain rides gaily and proudly ahead15On a stick-horse that prances and snorts!Oh, legions of soldiers you're certain to meet -Nice make-believe soldiers - in Good-Children street.

And yonder Odette wheels her dolly about -Poor dolly! I'm sure she is ill,20For one of her blue china eyes has dropped outAnd her voice is asthmatic'ly shrill.Then, too, I observe she is minus her feet,Which causes much sorrow in Good-Children street.

'T is so the dear children go romping about25With dollies and banners and drums,And I venture to say they are sadly put outWhen an end to their jubilee comes:Oh, days they are golden and days they are fleetWith little folk living in Good-Children street!30

But when falleth night over river and town,Those little folk vanish from sight,And an angel all white from the sky cometh downAnd guardeth the babes through the night,And singeth her lullabies tender and sweet35To the dear little people in Good-Children Street.

Though elsewhere the world be o'erburdened with care,Though poverty fall to my lot,Though toil and vexation be always my share,What care I - they trouble me not!40This thought maketh life ever joyous and Sweet:There's a dear little home in Good-Children street.