Lemon Pie

The world is full of gladness,    There are joys of many kinds,

There's a cure for every sadness,    That each troubled mortal finds.

And my little cares grow lighter    And I cease to fret and sigh,

And my eyes with joy grow brighter    When she makes a lemon pie.

When the bronze is on the filling    That's one mass of shining gold,

And its molten joy is spilling    On the plate, my heart grows

And the kids and I in chorus    Raise one glad exultant

And we cheer the treat before us    Which is mother's lemon pie.

Then the little troubles vanish,    And the sorrows disappear,

Then we find the grit to banish    All the cares that hovered near,

And we smack our lips in pleasure    O'er a joy no coin can buy,

And we down the golden treasure    Which is known as lemon pie.

This version taken from Just Folks by Edgar A

Published by The Reilly & Lee Co.,

Chicago,

Page 65