We motored through a valley,
	My dear old pal and I,
Along a winding river,
	With mountains towering high,
And over us the sky was blue,
	And all the land was bright,
With flowers blooming all the way,
	Of yellow, gold and white.

There was stillness in that valley,
	All nature seemed to hush,
That we might hear the music,
	Of the meadow lark and thrush,
The softly lapping waters,
	As they journeyed far away,
Seemed to whisper, “Be thou happy”.
	This is yours for all today.

So we talked of olden, golden days,
	Of the deeds we’d longed to do,
We clambered up the mountain side,
	Where fern and thistle grew,
Like happy children once again,
	The steepest pass we made,
We planned the old time journey o’er,
	So many years delayed.

We ate beside an old, old mill,
	Where moss and fern grew wild,
She was my little pal again,
	I’d loved when but a child,
The day was long and golden,
	But we never thought to rest,
Till the shadows softy lengthened,
	And the sun sank in the west.

Then we turned our faces homeward,
	But my thoughts were far away,
I am longing for another,
	Olden, golden autumn day,
To stroll beside that river,
	Near glen and waterfall,
With the mountains high above us,
	And a blue sky over all.

There are some who wish for wealth,
	And many things besides,
But I, my wish is this, that we,
	May chance once more to ride,
Along that winding, sunny trail,
	With flowers blooming bright,
Of Goldenrod and Daisies,
	Queen Anne’s lace, fluffy white.

To wander through the shady glens,
	And live the old days o’er,
The olden days, the golden days,
	The girlhood days of yore,
And close beside me all the way,	
	Where warmest sunbeams shine,
To spend another autumn day,
	With this old Pal O’Mine.

Katherine Carey-Place 1878-1934
September 1926

Copyright Roy Richard