THEY 'RE coming home Thanksgiving Day,
They 're coming back once more,
And mother's smiles begin to play
The way they did before
The youngsters went away. Somehow
She doesn't seem so old;
The lines have faded from her brow,
She's sprightly now and bold.
And yesterday she sang a song
That took me back to when
The youngest merely crept along,
And Frank was only ten.

They 're coming home Thanksgiving Day,
And mother shows it, too;
Her hair, somehow, is not so gray,
And in her eyes the blue
Is clearer than it used to be,
And in them there's a light
Of love that I was wont to see
When courting her at night.
She's singing songs again, and in
Her voice there 's not a crack,
Once more the dimple's in her chin,
For they are coming back.

They 're coming back, that's all we know,
They 're coming back to see
The mother of the long ago,
They 're coming back to me.
And we've put off a thousand woes,
And shelved a dozen years;
In mother's fading cheek the rose
Of June once more appears;
The old home seems to thrill once more
The way it used to, when
The baby crept along the floor
And Frank was only ten.