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Edgar Guest - The Family`s Homely Man
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There never was a family without its homely man,
With legs a little longer than the ordinary plan,
An` a shock of hair that brush an` comb can`t ever straighten out,
An` hands that somehow never seem to know what they`re about;
The one with freckled features and a nose that looks as though
It was fashioned by the youngsters from a chunk of mother`s dough.
You know the man I`m thinking of, the homely one an` plain,
That fairly oozes kindness like a rosebush dripping rain.
His face is never much to see, but back of it there lies
A heap of love and tenderness and judgment, sound and wise.

And so I sing the homely man that`s sittin` in his chair,
And pray that every family will always have him there.
For looks don`t count for much on earth; it`s hearts that wear the gold;
An` only that is ugly which is selfish, cruel, cold.
The family needs him, Oh, so much; more, maybe, than they know;
Folks seldom guess a man`s real worth until he has to go,
But they will miss a heap of love an` tenderness the day
God beckons to their homely man, an` he must go away.

He`s found in every family, it doesn`t matter where
They live or be they rich or poor, the homely man is there.
You`ll find him sitting quiet-like and sort of drawn apart,
As though he felt he shouldn`t be where folks are fine an` smart.
He likes to hide himself away, a watcher of the fun,
An` seldom takes a leading part when any game`s begun.
But when there`s any task to do, like need for extra chairs,
I`ve noticed it`s the homely man that always climbs the stairs.

And always it`s the homely man that happens in to mend
The little toys the youngsters break, for he`s the children`s friend.
And he`s the one that sits all night to watch beside the dead,
And sends the worn-out sorrowers and broken hearts to bed.
The family wouldn`t be complete without him night or day,
To smooth the little troubles out and drive the cares away.
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