The Old Folks in the New School-house.
Things ain’t now as they used to be
A hundred years ago,
When schools were kept in private rooms
Above stairs or below;
When sturdy boys and rosy girls
Romped through the drifted snow,
And spelled their duty and their “abs,”
A hundred years ago.
Those old school-rooms were dark and cold
When winter’s sun ran low;
But darker was the master’s frown,
A hundred years ago;
And high hung up the birchen rod,
That all the school might see,
Which taught the boys obedience
As well as Rule of Three.
Though ’twas but little that they learned,
A hundred years ago,
Yet what they got they ne’er let slip,—
’Twas well whipped in, you know.
But now the times are greatly changed,
The rod has had its day,
The boys are won by gentle words,
And girls by love obey.
The school-house now a palace is,
And scholars, kings and queens;
They master Algebra and Greek
Before they reach their teens.
Where once was crying, music sweet
Her soothing influence sheds;
Ferules are used for beating time,
And not for beating heads.
Yes, learning was a ragged boy,
A hundred years ago;
With six weeks schooling in a year,
What could the urchin do?
But now he is a full-grown man,
And boasts attainments rare;
He’s got his silver slippers on,
And running everywhere.