Just lately I went walking
On the roads of yesteryear;
I went walking through my childhood,
When the air was crisp and pure.
I could see the old house standing
And the smokehouse, and the well;
I could still see my dear mother.
As she rang the dinner bell.
I could see my mother's garden
And beyond, the briar patch.
Oh! Those juicy, ripe blackberries
Were well worth each itch and scratch.
In the meadows were the pastures,
Where the cows were gently lowing,
Where the butterflies were wafting
And the thick wildflowers growing.
In the grain field stood my father,
He, with others threshing wheat;
And I saw a small lad toting
Water, for them, in the heat.
Oft, we'd walk the pike to Grandpa's;
It was just a mile or two,
Past the stream where we went fishing;
It was there the willows grew.
Further on the little church stood,
Where the parson would expound;
Then we'd go into the church yard,
To have dinner on the ground.
These scenes, just some of many,
In my memories still endure,
As I go walking through my childhood
On the roads of yesteryear.