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OLD-TIME MEMORIES
BY James A. Ross
Picture-Harold Arthur Fox 1916
[Welland Tribune and Telegraph, 4 January 1921]
As time flies by my mind goes back
To scenes of boyhood days,
The games we played, the songs we sang,
The joy of childish ways;
The shows that struck the little town
That nestled by the stream,
The squirrels we chased, the fish we caught,
Are memories like a dream;
But the dearest old-time picture
No matter where I rove
Is mother baking buckwheat cakes
On the old black kitchen stove.
The boys who played beside the brook
Some made their mark in life,
And some have crossed to spirit-land
Beyond all earthly strife.
The little sweetheart that I loved
In memory still is dear,
The old school house is yet a charm
More precious year by year;
But the dearest old time picture
No matter where I rove
Is mother baking buckwheat cakes
On the old black kitchen stove.
The years roll by and one by one
They leave their mark on me,
The hair a little whiter grows,
The step not quite so free;
But still my heart is just as young
As many years ago,
Fond memories of childhood days
Will help to keep it so;
But the dearest old time picture
No matter where I rove
Is mother baking buckwheat cakes
On the old black kitchen stove.
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