It Takes a Heap O'Livin'

Edgar Guest was a Detroit news paper man who wrote in verse what we all experince just livin' life. This is the theme poem of his best selling of more than twenty books. In his own words:

It takes a heap o' livin' in a house t' make it home, A heap o' sun an' shadder, an' ye sometimes have t' roam Afore ye really 'preciate the things ye lef' behind, An' hunger for 'em somehow, with 'em allus on your mind. It don't make any difference how rich ye get t' be How much yer chairs an' tables cost, how great yer luxury; It ain't home t' ye, though it be the palace of a king Until somehow yer soul is sort o' wrapped 'round everything. Home ain't a place that gold can buy or get up in a minute; Afore it's home there's got t' be a heap o' livin' in it; Within the walls there's got t' be some babies born, and then Right there ye've got t' bring 'em on up t' women good n' men; And gradjerly, as times goes by, ye find ye wouldn't part With anything they ever used -- they've grown into your heart; The old high chairs, the play things, too; the little shoes they wore The hoard; an' if ye could ye'd keep the thumbmarks on the door. --Edgar Guest

"I take simple everyday things that happen to me and I figure it happens to a lot of other people and I make simple rhymes out of them."  --JB