OVER THE HILL TO THE POOR-HOUSE "What! no, it can't be that they've driven Their father so helpless and old O God ! may their crime be forgiven To perish out here in the cold. 0 Heavens! I am saddened and weary See the tears how they course down my cheeks! Oh! this world it is lonely and dreary And my heart for relief vainly seeks For I am old and helpless and feeble The days of my youth have gone by Then over the hills to the poor-house 1 wander alone there to die. Ah me! on that old doorstep yonder I've sat with my babes on my knee No father was happier or fonder Than I of my little ones three. The boys, both so rosy and chubby And Lily,, with prattle so sweet! God knows how their father has loved them But they've driven him out in the street. It's years since my Mary was taken My faithful, affectionate wife Since then I'm alone and forsaken And the life has died out of my life. The boys grew to manhood, I gave them A deed for the farm! aye and more I gave them this house they were born in And now I'm turned out from its door. Oh children! loved children! yet hear me I have journeyed along on life's stage With the hope that you all would be near me To comfort and cheer my old age; My life-blood I'd gladly have given To shield and protect you, but hark! Though my heart breaks, I'll say it, you've driven Me out here to die in the dark. But perhaps they'll live happier without me Farewell, dear old home! ah, farewell! Each pathway and tree here about me Some memory precious can tell. Well the flowers will bloom bright as ever And the birds sing as sweet to the morn When over the hill from the poor-house Next Spring, the old man shall be borne. G.L. Catlin The Poor House did indeed exist in Charlottetown , and those who had not saved enough for their old age, or had no family to take them in, sorrowfully entereq1 its gates. Anyone for "the good old days?". 71 N