When climbing up the hill or going down,
There’s a kindly, loving smile, to greet him all the while,
And even brighten fortune’s cruel frown.—Chorus.
Then when he is growing gray, as he journeys on his way,
And Time has slightly bent his stalwart form;
Tho’ his spirit may be bold, still with hearts of purest gold,
They hasten to protect him from life’s storm—
His old wife, with face so bright, is to him a ray of light,
That with the children fills his home with love;
’Tis their pleasure and their pride, to be ever at his side,