Riley Songs of Friendship Part 9

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Yer _new_ band ma'by beats it, but the _old band's_ what I said-- It allus 'peared to kind o' chord with somepin' in my head; And, whilse I'm no musicianer, when my blame' eyes is jes'

Nigh drownded out, and Mem'ry squares her jaws and sort o' says She _won't_ ner _never_ will fergit, I want to jes' turn in And take and light right out o' here and git back West ag'in And _stay_ there, when I git there, where I never haf to say I want to hear the _old_ band play.

[Ill.u.s.tration: The old band--tailpiece]

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[Ill.u.s.tration: My friend--headpiece]

MY FRIEND

"He is my friend," I said,-- "Be patient!" Overhead The skies were drear and dim; And lo! the thought of him Smiled on my heart--and then The sun shone out again!

"He is my friend!" The words Brought summer and the birds; And all my winter-time Thawed into running rhyme And rippled into song, Warm, tender, brave, and strong.

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And so it sings to-day.-- So may it sing alway!

Though waving gra.s.ses grow Between, and lilies blow Their trills of perfume clear As laughter to the ear, Let each mute measure end With "Still he is thy friend."

[Ill.u.s.tration: My friend--tailpiece]

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[Ill.u.s.tration: The traveling man--headpiece]

THE TRAVELING MAN

I

Could I pour out the nectar the G.o.ds only can, I would fill up my gla.s.s to the brim And drink the success of the Traveling Man, And the house represented by him; And could I but tincture the glorious draught With his smiles, as I drank to him then, And the jokes he has told and the laughs he has laughed, I would fill up the goblet again--

And drink to the sweetheart who gave him good-by With a tenderness thrilling him this Very hour, as he thinks of the tear in her eye That salted the sweet of her kiss; To her truest of hearts and her fairest of hands I would drink, with all serious prayers, Since the heart she must trust is a Traveling Man's, And as warm as the ulster he wears.

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[Ill.u.s.tration: Who have met him with smiles and with cheer]

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II

I would drink to the wife, with the babe on her knee, Who awaits his returning in vain-- Who breaks his brave letters so tremulously And reads them again and again!

And I'd drink to the feeble old mother who sits At the warm fireside of her son And murmurs and weeps o'er the stocking she knits, As she thinks of the wandering one.

I would drink a long life and a health to the friends Who have met him with smiles and with cheer-- To the generous hand that the landlord extends To the wayfarer journeying here: And I pledge, when he turns from this earthly abode And pays the last fare that he can, Mine Host of the Inn at the End of the Road Will welcome the Traveling Man!

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[Ill.u.s.tration: Dan O'Sullivan--headpiece]

DAN O'SULLIVAN

Dan O'Sullivan: It's your Lips have kissed "The Blarney," sure!-- To be trillin' praise av me, Dhrippin' swhate wid poethry!-- Not that I'd not have ye sing-- Don't lave off for anything-- Jusht be aisy whilst the fit Av me head shwells up to it!

Dade and thrue, I'm not the man, Whilst yer singin', loike ye can, To cry shtop because ye've blesht My songs more than all the resht:-- I'll not be the b'y to ax Any shtar to wane or wax, Or ax any clock that's woun'

To run up inshtid av down!

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Whist yez! Dan O'Sullivan!-- Him that made the Irishman Mixt the birds in wid the dough, And the dew and mistletoe Wid the whusky in the quare Muggs av us--and here we air, Three parts right, and three parts wrong, Shpiked with beauty, wit and song!

[Ill.u.s.tration: Dan O'Sullivan--tailpiece]

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[Ill.u.s.tration: My old friend--headpiece]

MY OLD FRIEND

You've a manner all so mellow, My old friend, That it cheers and warms a fellow, My old friend, Just to meet and greet you, and Feel the pressure of a hand That one may understand, My old friend.

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Though dimmed in youthful splendor, My old friend, Your smiles are still as tender, My old friend, And your eyes as true a blue As your childhood ever knew, And your laugh as merry, too, My old friend.

For though your hair is faded, My old friend, And your step a trifle jaded, My old friend, Old Time, with all his lures In the trophies he secures, Leaves young that heart of yours, My old friend.

And so it is you cheer me, My old friend, For to know you still are near me, My old friend, Makes my hopes of clearer light, And my faith of surer sight, And my soul a purer white, My old friend.

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[Ill.u.s.tration: Old John Henry--headpiece]