THE OLD TIMER 

 You've built up quite a city here, with stately business blocks, and wires a-running far and near, and handsome concrete walks. The trolley cars go whizzing by, and smoke from noisy mills is trailing slowly to the sky, and blotting out the hills. And thirty years ago I stood upon this same old mound, with not a house of brick or wood for twenty miles around! I'm mighty glad to be alive, to see the change you've made; it's good to watch this human hive, and hear the hum of trade! 

 I list to the moans and wails Of your town, with its toiling hands, But O for the lonely trails That led to the unknown lands! 

Of your town, with its toiling hands,

That led to the unknown lands!

 

 The Old Timer 

 I used to camp right where we stand, among these motor cars, and silence brooded o'er the land, as I lay 'neath the stars, save when the drowsy cattle lowed, or when a broncho neighed; and now you have an asphalt road, and palaces of trade! We hear the clamor of the host on every wind that blows, when people take the time to boast of how their city grows! I do not doubt that you will rise to greater heights of fame, and maybe paint across the skies your city's lustrous name! 

 I list to the ceaseless tramp Of the host, with its hopes and fears; But O for the midnight camp And the sound of the milling steers! 

Of the host, with its hopes and fears;

And the sound of the milling steers!

 

 

 THE BRIGHT FACE 

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