Tuesday, May 14, 2013


It's the lonesomest house you ever saw,
            This big gray house where I stay;
I don't call it livin' at all, at all,
            Since my mother went away,

Four long weeks ago, an' it seems a year,
            "Gone home," so the preacher said,
An' I ache in my breast with wantin' her,
            An' my eyes are always red.

I stay out of doors till I'm almost froze,
            'Cause every comer and room
Seems empty enough to frighten a boy
            And tilled to the doors with gloom.

I hate them to call me in to my meals,
            Sometimes I think I can't bear
To swallow a mouthful of anything,
            And see her not sittin' up there,

A-pourin' the tea an' passin' the things,
            An' laughin' to see me take
Two big lumps of sugar instead of one,
            An' more than my share of cake.

'I'm too big to be kissed," I used to say,
            But somehow I don't feel right
Crawlin' into bed as still as a mouse,
            Nobody saying "good-night,"

An' tuckin' the clothes up under my chin,
  An' pushin' my hair back so­-
Things a boy makes fun of before his chums,
            But things that he likes, you know.

There's no one to go to when things go wrong,
            She waz always so safe and sure.
Why, not a trouble could tackle a boy
            That she couldn't up and cure!

There are lots of women, it seems to me,
            That wouldn't be missed so much­
Women whose boys are about all grown up,
            An' old maid aunties, and such.

I can't make out for the life of me
            Why she should have to go,
An' her boy left here m. this old gray house,
            A-need in' and want in' her so.

I tell you, the very lonesomest thing
            In this great big world today
Is a boy of ten whose heart is broke
            'Cause his mother is gone away.

Toronto Globe

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