Out of the old house, Nancy—moved up into the new;
All the hurry and worry is just as good as through.
Only a bounden duty remains for you and I—
And that ’s to stand on the doorstep here, and bid the old house good-by.
What a shell we ’ve lived in, these nineteen or twenty years!
Wonder it had n’t smashed in, and tumbled about our ears;
Wonder...
Out of the old house, Nancy—moved up into the new;
All the hurry and worry is just as good as through.
Only a bounden duty remains for you and I—
And that ’s to stand on the doorstep here, and bid the old house good-bye.
What a shell we ’ve lived in, these nineteen or twenty years!
Wonder it hadn’t smashed in, and tumbled about our ears;
Wonder...
Over the hill to the poor-house I ’m trudgin’ my weary way—
I, a woman of seventy, and only a trifle gray—
I, who am smart an’ chipper, for all the years I ’ve told,
As many another woman that ’s only half as old.
Over the hill to the poor-house—I can’t quite make it clear!
Over the hill to the poor-house—it seems so horrid queer!
Many a step I...
