On the Fence

ON THE FENCE

The wheat was beginning to yellow,
The apples beginning to turn —
Oh, how it comes back to a fellow,
Whatever you gather or learn!
We grow old, we grow rich, we grow clever,
Yet, of all of the hours we have had,
The time we remember forever
We sat on a fence with our dad.

We talked of the school and the teacher,
We talked of the crops and the rain,
The sermon last Sunday, the preacher,
Then back to the grapes and the grain,
And each had a willow to whittle,
A man with a beard, and a lad,
Yet neither so big or so little,
A boy on a fence with his dad.

A boy has his studies that bother,
A man has his matters immense,
But you’re never as close to your father
As you are when you sit on a fence.
Whatever the trouble life brought us
When the lad is no longer a lad,
We shall find that the answer was taught us
When we sat on a fence with our dad.

(Copyright, 1930, by Douglas Malloch)

Sheboygan Press (Sheboygan, Wisconsin) Oct 17, 1930

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