In this land still rise my labors, And I’m sure its hard to beat; Just as brothers are my neighbors, Big-hearted, kind and sweet; But ne’er can I cease weeping, Thinking of glad young days; And the heart that long is sleeping Where the Deer Creek grasses wave. Chorus: She was happy, etc. When he had finished, they cheered him and cheered; He shook his head to this immense encore; They would not stop; they simply whooped and cheered: They loved his sentimental songs, but wore A longing to laugh thru a jolly lay; And must hear one before they’d go away. So he arose and forward went again; He mused awhile; he knew not what to sing. Then lo! His face lit with a mental flame; He found one that to them much joy would bring; Then with a jolly mien and mirth for all He sang that rollicking lay, “Lanigan’s Ball.” This had the psychological effect: The whole house went roaring rollicking glad. It was a fitting state of mind for that August assembly, strained, tired, and sad. The happy hearts turned to their homeward way, To long remember this eventful day. The moon still shone far over hills and plains; You still could hear the fainter jingling bells Of the glad sleighs, and snow songs of the wains; And chatter of the squads in tell-tale dells. And from the north, sung by James Gallaher’s band, The old school song waked all the snowy land. With “Then ring, then ring, ye light fairy bells; Let sweet happy voices chime with the dances, When the midnight army advances” As this one did, “forth from the shady dells.” And when those sounds died on the night air cool, Just past was that last Old Time Spelling School. Some of those people are now ag’d and gray; Their scions’ children have in schools their place. Some of those folks have long since moved away; And people have forgotten their kind face. But more of them now sleep beneath the flowers, In that sweet bed that will in time be ours. Some heard the angel’s call ’mid youth and hope; While others traveled half way up life’s way. Some, while descending on the farther slope; Others met life’s fate when their locks were gray. But such is life--a glint of sunshine made; A moment’s smile amid an endless shade. And now the thread is run; this rhyme must end; The curtain raised we must again let fall, ’Tho sad regret this close to hearts may send. Such is the fate of man’s tasks, each and all. But hoping that this tale delighted you, I bid you, patient friends, a kind adieu. TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES: Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been retained from the original. Alternate or archaic spelling has been retained from the original. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Old-Time Spelling School (In Three Parts), by John Gordon Ellenbecker