When you’ ve knocked about the country — been away from home for years; When the past, by distance softened, nearly fills your eyes with tears — You are haunted oft, wherever or however you may roam, By a fancy that you ought to go and see the folks at home.
You forget the family quarrels — little things that used to jar — And you think of how they’ ll worry — how they wonder where you are; You will think you served them badly, and your own part you’ ll condemn, And it strikes you that you’ ll surely be a novelty to them,
For your voice has somewhat altered, and your face has somewhat changed — And your views of men and matters over wider fields have ranged. Then it’ s time to save your money, or to watch it ( how it goes! ); Then it’ s time to get a‘ Gladstone’ and a decent suit of clothes;
Then it’ s time to practise daily with a hair-brush and a comb, Till you drop in unexpected on the folks and friends at home. When you’ ve been at home for some time, and the novelty’ s worn off, And old chums no longer court you, and your friends begin to scoff;
When‘ the girls’ no longer kiss you, crying‘ Jack! how you have changed!’ When you’ re stale to your relations, and their manner seems estranged; When the old domestic quarrels, round the table thrice a day, Make it too much like the old times — make you wish you’ d stayed away,
When, in short, you’ ve spent your money in the fulness of your heart, And your clothes are getting shabby.... Then it’ s high time to depart.
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