oor
And stay to tea as he used to do, for his neighborly days are o'er.

It's a distant life that the rich man leads and many an hour is glum,
For never the neighbors call on him save when they are asked to come.
At heart he is just as he used to be and he longs for his friends of old,
But they never will venture unbidden there. They're afraid of his wall of gold.

For silver and gold in a large amount there's a price that all men must pay,
And who will dwell in a rich man's house must live in a lonely way.
For once you have builded a fortune vast you will sigh for the friends you knew
But never they'll tap at your door again in the way that they used to do.

The Other Fellow

Whose luck is better far than ours?
The other fellow's.
Whose road seems always lined with flowers?
The other fellow's.
Who is the man who seems to get
Most joy in life, with least regret,
Who always seems to win his bet?
The other fellow.

Who fills the place we think we'd like?
The other fellow.
Whom does good fortune always strike?
The other fellow.
Whom do we envy, day by day?
Who has more time than we to play?
Who is it, when we mourn, seems gay?
The other fellow.

Who seems to miss the thorns we find?
The other fellow.
Who seems to leave us all behind?
The other fellow.
Who never seems to feel the woe,
The anguish and the pain we know?
Who gets the best seats at the show?
The other fellow.

And yet, my friend, who envies you?
The other fellow.
Who thinks he gathers only rue?
The other fellow.
Who sighs because he thinks that he
Would infinitely happier he,
If he could be like you or me?
The other fellow.

The Open Fire

There in the flame of the open grate,
All that is good in the past I see:
Red-lipped youth on the swinging gate,
Bright-eyed youth with its minstrelsy;
Girls and boys that I used to know,
Back in the days of Long Ago,
Troop before in the smoke and flame,