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We're not able, we mothers, to do all the work, 

 When you men ai-e so close, and so cold to your boy. 



You f org-et that you once were a boy, and would shirk. 

 And appear to expect to find ^old no alloy. 



Give your boys warmer hold on your hand and you heart; 



Give them always a smile, and a hearty good cheer. 

 Let them see in their pleasures you, too, share a part. 



And they'll take to their fathers instead of their beer. 



If your boy takes a shine to a fine, rosy g-irl. 



And he asks for the team and a dollar or so ; 

 Do not draw down your face with a frown like a churl. 



And g-rowl out " It beats all that you boys are all go." 



But think boys must be boys e're they grow to be men. 

 You yourself were once kids, though now classed with the goats. 



And, with jovial advice, let them go now and then, 

 For a chance, while yet home, to sow out their wild oats. 



Many fathers say "Mothers make babes of their boys," 

 But they love us ; and who of j^ou men, looking back, 



But will say that a fond mother's love of all joys, 

 Called to mind, Is the dearest that throng memory's track. 



That more potent it was to dissuade from a course 

 That was leading you doAvnward, fi-om virtue to vice. 



Than the fear of rebuke, or of physical force, 

 From a father whose love, though 'twas warm, seemed like Ice. 



In our schools, you have helped, 'till it's owned that our state 

 Leads the van. And in this town the schools are your pride ; 



So I'm glad that the towns 'round about have of late, 

 Spite of fogies who'd clog every wheel as we ride. 



Been determined to better the schools, and at last 

 We are on the right track, and have but to advance. 



Then don't keep out your boys, as you have in the past. 

 From the schools, when each day is decreasing their chance. 



To perfect the foundation on which they must build. 

 For their future depends not so much on the hand. 



Though important is that when thei-e's land to be tilled. 

 As it does on the brain a success to command. 



You may think that my song has a purse- ward intent. 

 And you're right. But I knew your attention to gain. 



That I must not begin with a call for one cent, 

 Or you'd flee, as from ghost, with your whole might and main. 



Just a word for our Fair, I would add to my lay, 

 I rejoice with you all that we have these glad days. 



They enliven our hearts, and we truly can say 

 It was good to be there, as we go different ways. 



But I caution you men to take heed that our Fair 

 If kept mainly for farmers, and not for fast horse, 



If you don't, in the future you'll live to declare 

 That that horse trotted purse, farm and fair from the course. 



