Just Folks

Unimportant Differences

          If he is honest, kindly, true,
            And glad to work from day to day;
          If when his bit of toil is through
            With children he will stoop to play;
          If he does always what he can
            To serve another's time of need,
          Then I shall hail him as a man
            And never ask him what's his creed.

          If he respects a woman's name
            And guards her from all thoughtless jeers;
          If he is glad to play life's game
            And not risk all to get the cheers;
          If he disdains to win by bluff
            And scorns to gain by shady tricks,
          I hold that he is good enough
            Regardless of his politics.

          If he is glad his much to share
            With them who little here possess,
          If he will stand by what is fair
            And not desert to claim success,
          If he will leave a smile behind
            As he proceeds from place to place,
          He has the proper frame of mind,
            And I won't stop to ask his race.

          For when at last life's battle ends
            And all the troops are called on high
          We shall discover many friends
            That thoughtlessly we journeyed by.
          And we shall learn that God above
            Has judged His creatures by their deeds,
          That millions there have won His love
            Who spoke in different tongues and creeds.

          The Fishing Outfit

          You may talk of stylish raiment,
            You may boast your broadcloth fine,
          And the price you gave in payment
            May be treble that of mine.
          But there's one suit I'd not trade you
            Though it's shabby and it's thin,
          For the garb your tailor made you:
              That's the tattered,
              Mud-bespattered
            Suit that I go fishing in.

          There's no king in silks and laces
            And with jewels on his breast,
          With whom I would alter places.
            There's no man so richly dressed
          Or so like a fashion panel
            That, his luxuries to win,
          I would swap my shirt of flannel
              And the rusty,
              Frayed and dusty
            Suit that I go fishing in.

          'Tis an outfit meant for pleasure;
            It is freedom's raiment, too;
          It's a garb that I shall treasure
            Till my time of life is through.
          Though perhaps it looks the saddest
            Of all robes for mortal skin,
          I am proudest and I'm gladdest
              In that easy,
              Old and greasy
            Suit that I go fishing in.