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The Days of Old

From The Seattle Star, November 28, 1913. By Berton Braley.

Sometimes I long for the days of old
    When men were quick with a trusty blade;
When dandies strutted in silk and gold
    And women rustled in stiff brocade;
When life was filled with the old Romance,
    With courtly manners and stately ways,
And brave Adventure had half a chance
    ‘Neath the smiling skies of the Good Old Days.
And yet—and yet—this thought keeps coming,
    They had no plumbing!

There’s a wondrous thrill in the good old time
    When gallants fought for a gallant king,
And all went gay as a lilting rhyme
    And life was a rollicking, joyous thing;
When Milord rode forth in a scarlet coat,
    With spotless lace at his neck and wrist,
And a faithful squire at his side to note
    The deeds he did—and the maids he kissed!
Yet, for all his deeds, and dear, he held ‘em,
    He bathed but seldom!

I sometimes long for the days of old
    And sigh to climb from the modern rut;
Then I think of the castles, dim and cold,
    And I think of the poor man’s airless hut;
I think of the candles they used for light,
    The lumbering stage they rode upon;
I think of the Might that passed for Right,
    And I’m glad the good old days have gone!
They were pleasant days for the hero dapper,
    But—I’m no scrapper!

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