Right Here At Home.

A poem by James Whitcomb Riley

Right here at home, boys, in old Hoosierdom,
Where strangers allus joke us when they come,
And brag o' their old States and interprize -
Yit settle here; and 'fore they realize,
They're "hoosier" as the rest of us, and live
Right here at home, boys, with their past fergive!

Right here at home, boys, is the place, I guess,
Fer me and you and plain old happiness:
We hear the World's lots grander - likely so, -
We'll take the World's word fer it and not go. -
We know its ways aint our ways - so we'll stay
Right here at home, boys, where we know the way.

Right here at home, boys, where a well-to-do
Man's plenty rich enough - and knows it, too,
And's got a' extry dollar, any time,
To boost a feller up 'at wants to climb
And 's got the git-up in him to go in
And git there, like he purt'-nigh allus kin!

Right here at home, boys, is the place fer us! -
Where folks' heart's bigger 'n their money-pu's';
And where a common feller's jes as good
As ary other in the neighborhood:
The World at large don't worry you and me
Right here at home, boys, where we ort to be!

Right here at home, boys - jes right where we air! -
Birds don't sing any sweeter anywhere:
Grass don't grow any greener'n she grows
Acrost the pastur' where the old path goes, -
All things in ear-shot's purty, er in sight,
Right here at home, boys, ef we size 'em right.

Right here at home, boys, where the old home-place
Is sacerd to us as our mother's face,
Jes as we rickollect her, last she smiled
And kissed us - dyin' so and rickonciled,
Seein' us all at home here - none astray -
Right here at home, boys, where she sleeps to-day.

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