The things our fathers loved

I think there must be a place in the soul

all made of tunes, of tunes of long ago;

I hear the organ on the Main Street corner,

Aunt Sarah humming Gospels; Summer evenings,

The village cornet band, playing in the square.

The town's Red, White and Blue,

all Red, White and Blue; Now! Hear the songs!

I know not what are the words

But they sing in my soul of the things our Fathers loved.