The old plush-covered album
Upon the parlor stand
Is but a distant country,
A half-forgotten land
Inhabited by people
Strong as the sturdy oaks,
Firm as the hills they conquered,
--The dear old-fashioned folks.
Look at the honest faces,
The quaint and homely dress,
The strained and studied postures
That once spelled loveliness.
Look at the solemn features.
They put away their jokes
To have their pictures taken
--The dear old-fashioned folks.
They carved trails through the forests.
They seeded down the soil.
They built the busy cities
By unremitting toil.
They laid the firm foundations,
By honest, manly strokes,
On which we build the future.
--The dear old-fashioned folks.