(From a Westerner’s Point of Vie… No matter what you call it, Whether genius, or art, He sings the simple songs that com… The closest to your heart.

Not they who soar, but they who pl… Their rugged way, unhelped, to Go… Are heroes; they who higher fare, And, flying, fan the upper air, Miss all the toil that hugs the so…

Over the hills and the valleys of… Slowly I take my way. Life is the night with its dream—v… Death is the waking at day. Down thro’ the dales and the bower…

Hyeah come Caesar Higgins, Don’t he think he 's fine? Look at dem new riggin’s Ain’t he tryin’ to shine? Got a standin’ collar

Temples he built and palaces of ai… And, with the artist’s parent—prid… His fancy saw his vague ideals gro… Into creations marvellously fair; He set his foot upon Fame’s nethe…

A SONG is but a little thing, And yet what joy it is to sing! In hours of toil it gives me zest, And when at eve I long for rest; When cows come home along the bars…

Ah, yes, the chapter ends to—day; We even lay the book away; But oh, how sweet the moments sped Before the final page was read! We tried to read between the lines

Come when the nights are bright wi… Or when the moon is mellow; Come when the sun his golden bars Drops on the hay—field yellow. Come in the twilight soft and gray…

VILLAIN shows his indiscretion, Villain’s partner makes confession… Juvenile, with golden tresses, Finds her pa and dons long dresses… Scapegrace comes home money—laden,

Oh, wind of the spring—time, oh, f… When blossoms and bird—song are ri… Oh, joy for the season, and joy fo… That gave me the roses of life, of… That gave me the roses of life.

THESE are the days of elfs and f… Who says that with the dreams of m… These imps and elves disport thems… Ah no, along the paths of song Do all the tiny folk belong.

I stand above the city’s rush and… And gaze far down with calm and un… To where the misty smoke wreath gr… Above the myriad roofs and spires… Still is my heart and vacant is my…

Ain’t nobody nevah tol’ you not a… 'Bout de time dat all de critters… Some folks tell it in a sto’y, som… ‘Peahs to me you ought to hyeahed… Well, de critters all was p’osp’ou…

OH, who would be sad tho’ the sky… And meadow and woodlands are empty… For softly and merrily now there c… The little white birds thro’ the w… The squirrel’s enjoying the rest o…

The snow lies deep upon the ground… And winter’s brightness all around Decks bravely out the forest sere, With jewels of the brave old year. The coasting crowd upon the hill