^ Shooting Match 125 



my *'ain folk" and the neighbours' boys and girls 

 lined up there a-raising their tuneful voices. 



I do not often *'mess up" with poetry and 

 when I do *'mess" is the right word, but I just 

 cannot refrain from an attempt at some wordy 

 jingles about that organ in our old farm parlour. 



Ah, that old-fashioned organ in our home down on the 



farm! 

 In fancy I can see it as it was in days of yore, 

 It gave to our old parlour a sweet peculiar charm — 

 But, alas ; its strains are hushed f orevermore. 

 'Twas the first one in the neighbourhood and cost a tidy 



Tum, 

 But it surely made the place with gladness ring, 

 When Jennie pulled the stops out, you should have seen 



us come 

 For it took no coaxing then to make us sing. 

 The young folks on the farms about just couldn't stay 



away, 

 And in evenings and on Sunday afternoons 

 They often came to visit us and made our old home gay 

 When they helped us sing those touching old-time tunes. 

 Mother in the dining-room would ope the door and smile, 

 While father quick his paper down would fling, 

 And both with joyous faces and hearts that knew no 



guile 

 Would listen to us 'round that organ sing. 

 Loud and clear, they could hear 

 Our voices with that organ's notes a-blending, 

 How we sang, till rafters rang 

 Those tunes of other days on high ascending, 

 ''Dublin Bay," "Old Dog Tray," 

 "Nancy Lee," "Kathleen Mavoumeen," 

 "Some Happy Day," "Auld Robin Gray," 

 "Bonnie Doon," "The Gypsy's Warning." 



