And temptingly say, "Here's a place for the boys." Ah, what if they should? What If your boy or mine Should cross over the threshold that marks out the line 'Twixt virtue and vice, 'twixt pureness and sin. And leave all his innocent boyhood within? Oh, what if they should, because you and I While the days and the months and the years hurry by, Are too busy with cares and life's fleeting joys To make round the hearthstone, a place for the boys? There's a place for the boys. They'll find it somewhere; And if our homes are too daintily fair For the touch of their fingers, the tread of their feet, They'll find it, and find it alas on the street, 'M id the gildings of sin, and the glitter of vice; And with heartaches and longings we'll pay a great price For the getting of gain that our life time employs, If we fail to provide a good place for our boys.
What can a boy do, and where can a boy stay, If he is always told to get out of the way? He cannot sit here, and he must not stand there. The cushions that cover the upholster ed chair Were put there, of course, to be seen and admired; A boy has no business to ever be tired. The beautiful roses and flowers that bloom On the floor of a darkened and deli cate room. Are made not to walk on, at least not by boys; The house is no place, anyway, for their noise. But boys must walk somewhere, and what if their feet Sent out of our houses, sent into the street, Should step ' round the corner and pause at the door Where other boys' feet have paused oft before; Should press through the gateway of glittering light, Where jokes that are merry and songs that are bright. Ring out a warm welcome with flat tering voice.
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