Poetry of Kansas
 

Mother, Come Home.

(Tune: Father, Dear Father, Come Home
    With Me. Now.)
 
Mother, dear mother, come home from the club,
    You promised to come home at five;
This club business, father in anger Just said,
    He can not much longer survive;
He swore at us children and called us poor brats,
    And furiously kicked poor old TraY,
And said since these crazy card parties began
    The devil is surely to pay.
 
CHORUS:
Come home, come home, come home,
Dear mother, please mother, come home.
 
Mother, dear mother, come home from the club,
    You told me that you would come soon;
You won in the game, are you stfll in a fight,
    And pulling hair over the spoon ?
I've labored so hard to tidy the house;
    Our supper of cold hash is done,
And papa declares if you do not start now,
    He'll come for you quick with a gun.
__J. M. Cavaness.

Jayhawker Juleps
J. M. Cavaness
(Chanute: Tribune Pub. Co. 1913)
Page 48

 
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February 18, 2003 / John & Susan Howell / Wichita, Kansas / howell@kotn.org

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