OL' COUNTRY SCHOOL

 

 

The little brick schoolhouse

where Mama used to go,

sets quietly atop the hill thru’

summer heat and snow

 

The bell on top is silent now,

the window shutters tight,

the door is weather-beaten,

and floors an awful sight

 

The old woodstove is centered

in the middle of the room,

lilac bushes, long forgot,

beside brick walls still bloom

Blackboards stretch across one end

stained with dust and chalk,

memories those walls could tell if

only they could talk

 

Honored places now are faded

where president paintings hung,

Pledge of Allegiance always said

when morning bell was rung

There’s a hitchin’ post for horses

the children rode to school,

no bus for transportation then

to learn the Golden Rule

 

It’s just an ancient building

say young folks of today,

but Mama tells of happy times,

of study, friends, and play

They learned their manners,

ABCs, history, arithmetic,

those who sometimes misbehaved

were swatted with a stick

 

Discipline was taught there,

honor and respect,

to take responsibility,

not leave one’s youth unchecked

The old place holds the secrets

of bygone days long passed,

of children growing tall and straight

with rules of life to last

 

That dear old country school

where youngsters sought their goal

within those walls of mortared brick

stands now empty of its soul…

MUSIC   ~ AMANDA ~