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Show Your Younger f Days I X By DOUGLAS MALLOCH A LET t:o your hold, you youner days Why.iust you follow tue around? When I could walk life's crimson ways You follow with the pentle sound Of some old tune my mother (audit me. When I was what my mother thought me, And all the crimson seems no Rood, The way my mother said It would. i.et go your hold; for, If yon knew How I have worked, how I have won, Done things she prayed I'd never do. Thnt I ml-lit have this hour of fun, Yes, knew the Joys I had to trade for The pleasures that are bought and 1 paid for. Then you might leave me, leave me yet. And let me frolic, and forget. Let ro your hold. Among the throngs, 1 TTie lights and laughter, gold and ( luce, I hear an echo of old songs, I catch a glimpse of Mother's face. If I could put these things behind me, What Joys I'd have, what friends I'd find me, nut conscience makes me sick and old- Oh, younger days, let go your hold. tO. IB'.'" UuiiKlai Mnllorb.) |