Читать книгу The Path to Home - Edgar A. Guest - Страница 10

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"Tell us a story," comes the cry

From little lips when nights are cold,

And in the grate the flames leap high.

"Tell us a tale of pirates bold,

Or fairies hiding in the glen,

Or of a ship that's wrecked at sea."

I fill my pipe, and there and then

Gather the children round my knee.

I give them all a role to play—

No longer are they youngsters small,

And I, their daddy, turning gray;

We are adventurers, one and all.

We journey forth as Robin Hood

In search of treasure, or to do

Some deed of daring or of good;

Our hearts are ever brave and true.

We take a solemn oath to be

Defenders of the starry flag;

We brave the winter's stormy sea,

Or climb the rugged mountain crag,

To battle to the death with those

Who would defame our native land;

We pitch our camp among the snows

Or on the tropics' burning sand.

We rescue maidens, young and fair,

Held captive long in prison towers;

We slay the villain in his lair,

For we're possessed of magic powers.

And though we desperately fight,

When by our foes are we beset,

We always triumph for the right;

We have not lost a battle yet.

It matters not how far we stray,

Nor where our battle lines may be,

We never get so far away

That we must spend a night at sea.

It matters not how high we climb,

How many foes our pathway block,

We always conquer just in time

To go to bed at 9 o'clock.