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Edgar Guest - The Home-town
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Some folks leave home for money 
And some leave home for fame, 
Some seek skies always sunny, 
And some depart in shame. 
I care not what the reason 
Men travel east and west, 
Or what the month or season — 
The home-town is the best. 

The home-town is the glad town 
Where something real abides; 
`Tis not the money-mad town 
That all its spirit hides. 
Though strangers scoff and flout it 
And even jeer its name, 
It has a charm about it 
No other town can claim. 

The home-town skies seem bluer 
Than skies that stretch away, 
The home-town friends seem truer 
And kinder through the day; 
And whether glum or cheery 
Light-hearted or depressed, 
Or struggle-fit or weary, 
I like the home-town best. 

Let him who will, go wander 
To distant towns to live, 
Of some things I am fonder 
Than all they have to give. 
The gold of distant places 
Could not repay me quite 
For those familiar faces 
That keep the home-town bright.
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