Down to work o' mornings, an' back to home at nights,
Down to hours o' labor, an' home to sweet delights;
Down to care an' trouble, an' home to love an' rest,
With every day a good one, an' every evening blest.

Down to dreary dollars, an' back to home to play,
From love to work an' back to love, so slips the day away.
From babies back to business an' back to babes again,
From parting kiss to welcome kiss, this marks the march o' men.

Some care between our laughter, a few hours filled with strife,
A time to stand on duty, then home to babes and wife;
The bugle sounds o' mornings to call us to the fray,
But sweet an' low 'tis love that calls us home at close o' day.