When J.O. superintendant left home at seventeen.

I never see John anymore-
The yeras have come between-
He left for Minnesota
In the fall of Seventeen-
An’ then we both got married,
An’ the years have skipped away-
Since we were little boys at Home
A Fiddleing “Nellie Gray”!

The wind was blowing the prairie grass-
Both of us boys were poor-
And PA said “JONNIE WILL NEVER COME BACK
TO THE “Old Farm” ANY MORE!”
He took with him my Violin-
He took with him my dreams-
And all the stories, all the joys,
We had in Happy Days!

I plow as then, the Old Home Fields-
The meadow sings its song!
And all the winds of summer weave
A down the rows of corn;
The wild winds of the Prairie,
However far they roam-
CAN NEVER LIFT THE CART DUST
OF THE “WANDERER”…COMING HOME!