The Old Log Baru.

The Old Log Baru.
416.5

There’s a charm for me yet in the old log barn.
So tottering, old and gray.
Where wildly I loved long years ago
To romp on the new made hay.

Chorus.
For the merry old times that I sported there,
The song that I sung in my play.
Hath left recollections within my heart
That never will fade away.

And there is the oldentime thrashing floor,
Where busily moved our feet,
To handle the bay or the bearded sheaf
Or winnow the golden wheat.
Chorus.

But now the old barn is forsaken and worn.
The best of its days it hath seen:
Stiil, when it is moldered and fallen away
Its menory will be green,
Chorus.

They are gathering fruit of the plenteous
In granary and spacious mow. year
And the laborers’ shout of the harvest home
Is floating around me now.
Chorus.