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| Mid pleasures and places though we may roam, Be it ever so humble,theres no place like home; A charm from the sky seems to hallow us there, Which,seek through the world,is ne'er met with elsewhere, Home ,home,sweet,sweet home! There's no place like home,oh there's no place like home! |
| An exile from home,splendor dazzles in vain; Oh,give me my lowly thatched cottage again! The birds singing gayly,that came at my call~ Give me them-and the peace of mind,dearer than all! Home,home,sweet,sweet,home!There's no place like home,oh,there's no place like home! |
| I gaze on the moon as I tread the drear wild, And fear that my mother now thinks of her child, As she looks on the moon from our own cottage door, Thro'the woodbine,whose fragrance shall cheer me no more, Home,home,sweet,sweet,home. There's no place like home,oh,there's no place like home! |
| How sweet tis to sit 'neath a fond fathers smile, And the caress of a mother to soothe and beguile! Let others delight mid new pleasures to roam,, But give me,oh give me,the pleasures of home, Home,home,sweet,sweet,home! There's no place like home,oh,there's no place like home! |
| To thee I'll return,over burdened with care; The hearts dearest solace will smile on there, No more from that cottage again I will roam, Be it ever so humble, theres no place like home, Home,home,sweet sweet,home! There's no place like home,oh,there's no place like Home! |
| Duty |
| So nigh is grandeur to our dust, So neasr is God to man,When duty whispers low,"Thou Must" The youth replies"I can"! |
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| Home Sweet Home |
| John Howard Payne |
| 1791�1852 |
| Little Brown Jug |
| My wife and I live all alone, In a little brown hut we call our own,She loves Gin and I love rum, Tell yuo what dont we have fun? |
| Ha ha ha tiss you and me, Little brown jug dont I love thee, ha ha ha tis you and me'Little Brown jug dont I love thee? |
| If I had a cow that gave such milk, Id dress her in the finest silk, Feed her on the choicest hay, and milk her fourty time a day. |
| Tis you that makes my friend my foes, tis you that makes me wear old clothes, But being you are so near my noose, Tip her up and down she goes. |
| When I go toiling on my farm, Take my little brown jug under my arm Set it under dome shady tree, Lit;le brown jug dont I love thee? |
| then came the landlord tripping in, Round top hat and peaked chin, In his hand he carried a cup, Say I,old felllow give us a sup? If all the folks of Adams race, Were put together in one place, then Id prepare to drop a tear, Before Id part with you my dear. |
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