There’s a battered old drum on the floor,
And a Teddy bear sleeps in my chair,
There’s a doll carriage barring the door;
Ah, it’s weeks since she trundled it there!
There are building blocks strewn in the hall,
And a train of cars wrecked on the track,
And I smile as I gaze at them all,
Thank goodness, the children are back.
There’s a handkerchief tied to my cane,
That’s a flag that a soldier boy bears;
Now the yard is a grim battle plain
And the soldiers are marching in pairs.
There are finger marks now on the wall
That were left there by hands that were black,
But I smile as I gaze at them all,
Thank goodness, the children are back.
There are cries of delight and despair
Resounding once more through the place;
There are pillow fights fierce on the stair,
And down through the hall there’s a race;
There’s a bump of a terrible fall
As the enemy’s camp they attack,
But I smile as I list to it all,
Thank goodness, the children are back.
For give me the clamor and noise
And give me the pranks that they play,
The disturbance of girls and of boys
That comes at the end of the day.
For I’m sick of monotony’s pall
That hovered for weeks o’er the shack,
It is music to me when they call,
Thank goodness, the children are back.
