Back in the golden days of youth,
On a farm in I-o-way;
Happiest days of all were they,—
If you don't care what you say.
Nothing to do but milk the cows,
And feed the gentle stock,
And work like a Turk from early morn
Till nearly eight o'clock.
The only joy of the country boy,
To fill his soul with glee,
On a frosty night, when the moon shone bright,
Away to the husking bee.

Go to the East, go to the West,
Go to the one that you love best;
If she's not here to take your part,
Choose another with all your heart.
Down on this carpet you must kneel
As sure's the grass grows in the field,
Salute your bride and kiss her sweet,
And then you rise upon your feet.

Oft' I recall the girl I loved,
In the days of long ago;
Muscular maid of six feet two,
With a cheek of rosy glow.
I would escort my Genevieve
To many a husking bee,
And she at the call of ' ladies choice '
Would always grab for me.
With a sudden swoop and a merry whoop,
She'd mop me 'round the floor,
And though I'd resist, I was always kissed,
Sing hey, for the days of yore!

I think I hear the rain-crow say,
I think I hear the rain-crow say,
I think I hear the rain-crow say,
' It ain't a-ffoin' to rain no more.'
Swing your true love, swing her back again,
Swing your true love, swing her back again,
Swing your true love, swing her back again,
It ain't a-goin' to rain no more.

Best of the pleasures that we knew,
In the days that now have fled,
Snuggled so warm and holding hands,
In the big old-time bob-sled.
Calico damsels just as proud
As any queen in silk,
And we didn't take them out to dine,
They lived on mush and milk.
But the noisy fun when the work was done,
And the cider flowing free,
With a ' balance all,' at the fiddler's call,
We'd swing in the jamboree.

I long and sigh for the days gone by,
I pine for the rustic charm
Of the dear old games, the queer old games
We played down on the farm.