The Home Town

by Edgar A. Best

It doesn’t matter much
be its buildings great or small,
The home town, the home town
is the best town, after all.

The cities of the millions
have the sun and stars above,
But they lack the friendly faces
of the few you’ve learned to love.

And with all their pomp of riches
and with all their teeming throngs,
The heal of man is rooted
in the town where he belongs.

The home town has a treasure
which the distance cannot gain,
It is there the hearts are kindest,
there the gentlest friends remain;

It is there a mystic something
seems to permeate the air,
To set the weary wanderer
to wishing he were there;

And be it great or humble,
it still holds mankind in thrall,
For the home town, the home town
is the best town after all.

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