When the golden sun sinks in the hills
And the toil of a long day is o’er
Though the road may be long in the lilt of a song
I forget I was weary before.
Far ahead where the blue shadows fall
I shall come to contentment and rest
And the toils of the day
Will be all charmed away
In my little gray home of the West.
There are hands that will wellcome me in
There are lips I am burning to kiss
There are two eyes that shine
Just because they are mine
And a thousand things other men miss
It’s a corner of heavan itself.
Though its only a thumbledown nest
But with love broading there
Why no place can compare
With my little grey home of the West. |