Poem by Edgar Albert Guest

A Boost for Modern Methods

In some respects the old days were perhaps ahead of these,
Before we got to wanting wealth and costly luxuries;
Perhaps the world was happier then, I'm not the one to say,
But when it's zero weather I am glad I live to-day.
Old-fashioned winters I recall--the winters of my youth--
I have no great desire for them to-day, I say in truth;
The frost upon the window panes was beautiful to see,
But the chill upon that bedroom floor was not a joy to me.
I do not now recall that it was fun in those days when
I woke to learn the water pipes were frozen tight "again."
To win once more the old-time joys, I don't believe I'd care
To have to sleep, for comfort's sake, dressed in my underwear.
Old-fashioned winters had their charms, a fact I can't deny,
But after all I'm really glad that they have wandered by;
We used to tumble out of bed, like firemen, I declare,
And grab our clothes and hike down stairs and finish dressing there.
Yes, brag about those days of old, boast of them as you will,
I sing the modern methods that have robbed them of their chill;
I sing the cheery steam pipe and the upstairs snug and warm
And a spine that's free from shivers as I robe my manly form.

1. The Home Builders
2. Home (It takes a heap o’ livin’ in a house t’ make it home)
3. The Handy Man
4. Laughter
5. The Blue Flannel Shirt

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