The Old Home

Over the hills and far away,
To the dear old home
of my boyhood day
Many hours I have played
in the meadows green

Gathering flowers, and
fishing in the stream.
You could hear the
sound of the water mills,

That run all day until the sun set
below the western hills.
You could hear the song
of birds from morning until night.

Until the day was gone
and there was no light.
At the farm house
you could hear the dogs bark,

And the whippor will a singing after dark.
Now those large forests are all cut away,
And there is no place
for the wild deer to stay.

My dear old mother
and father have gone to rest.
Oh, they were the ones
that I loved best.
My sisters and brothers are gone
from that cabin door,

And it is very seldom
that I see them any more.
Those were the happiest days of all
At the dear old home
where the trees were so tall.
There are many things that I could tell
Of that dear old home that I loved so well.