Mine not the song that wants to be Embalmed in some anthology, That some professor must explain To some distracted student's brain -- No, if you look for words so long They puzzle you, mine not the song. But if the ordinary phrase Of ordinary folks and ways Has music in it anywhere, If simple things, like love, and care, And God, and family, and land, If things that children understand Have any value, I will sing For prince or pauper, slave or king, Yes, sing my song, and hope to find The common heart and common mind -- Sing not because I want your praise, But sing my song myself to raise. For song that can't be understood I do not think is always good, And verse obscure with hidden truth Is not an aid to eager youth; And hearts a-hunger do not seek For lofty passages of Greek. I want to help you if I can, The lonely woman, toiling man; But if you do not care to hear, Think not that @3I@1 shall shed a tear; I'll take my pack and trudge along, For @3I@1, at least, have had my song. |