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"WHY I HAVE NO HOME"

A Poem by GEORGE HANEY - 1897
as Published in "The Marion County News", January 21, 1897 
 Transcribed and submitted by Veneta McKinney

Written for the News

 

Oh! A light in the window I see,

Perhaps she is looking for me,

Yes, to be sure, and I will go,

Perhaps I may not see her any more.

 

And up the narrow street I wend,

There to see my maiden friend

She was the first to meet me at the door

With pleasant smiles, just as before.

 

Her big blue eyes O, they show so bright,

But little thinking this my last good night;

Wait one minute, I will get a chair,

Then I stood aside to only curl my hair.

 

Down we sat my face all aglow,

To tell the girl why I loved her so.

We talked of weather, health and our cold

And this is the story that I told.

 

It was an early December day

On Sunday to church you did go,

It was there that you did say

That I was not your beau.

 

But I called around just at three,

My business to you it was hard to tell,

There ten letters you gave to me

From the girl I love so well.

 

On next Sunday I did send

A short message or billet deaux

To claim to be your friend

Then you said, I am nothing more to you.

 

Since then sorrow shades my brow,

And now I roam with troubled mind,

To leave you, but don’t know how,

The one I love so far behind.

 

Through this weary world I must wander

My thoughts alone will be of you

You, in memory, I cannot squander,

And love you like I do.

 

But now my thoughts o’er surging sea

And my sturdy frame must travel too

This face of mine perhaps you’’ never see

But my love alone will be for you.

 

You said you always thought of me,

Those are the words you said were true,

The truth you spoke whate’r it be,

I cannot help but think of you

 

Now you know on that last walk,

While you shivering in the cold,

You could not even so much as talk,

Though the g. b. you finally told.

 

It was silence you know I said

And I bid you my last good night,

Do you see now I am almost dead.

It was caused by that awful blight.

 

You know you told but not in vain

With me you never more would go,

But one, our friend, I’ll give no name,

And I to you am nothing more.

 

The old story I hate to repeat,

But this sis something I must tell,

My face perhaps you’’ never more meet,

Though I know I love you well.

 

My heart I fondly gave to you

And you gave yours in return,

But ah! You with bright eyes so blue,

In flames my heart did burn.

 

It was on a Christmas day a sunlight sky

That our friend in blue did tell,

The story that is the reason why,

That you do not love me well.

 

This is the reason why I must roam,

To wander form the face I love so true,

It is the reason why I have no home,

All because of my love for you.

 

Over this world I must sadly roam,

Across the Rocky Mountains high

You know I have no girl or home,

With a broken heart I shall surely die.

 

Now ain’t you sorry of the deed you’ve done’

A bright-eyed youth with blonde hair,

Must leave parents, friends, and home,

And the sweet little maid he loves so dear.

Eldridge, Ala. January 1896 (**sic – should be 1897?**)

"SWEETHEART LAMENT"

A Poem by GEORGE HANEY - 1897
as Published in "The Marion County News", February 11, 1897 
 Transcribed and submitted by Veneta McKinney
Written for the News
 

I must wander on a loafing pelf,

As this is a haunted place of sighs,

This is what I mutter to myself

Is the place where lovers dies.

 

How oft have I wandered here

To meet the lad with eyes so blue

Now he is gone, I know not where,

He said my heart was false, untrue.

 

Here are ten letters from him to me,

With them I can never part,

Though his face I may never see

He carries with him my broken heart.

 

He came to bid the last good-by

The scene filled my heart with pain,

He said there with a broken sign

His face I’d never see again.

 

For him I’ll never lose my love,

Until my grave you shall see

Then to meet in heaven above,

Clothed in glory there we’ll be

 

Where pleasures can never die,

In splendor there we’ll roam,

With no rears to dim our eyes,

In that great and pleasant home.

 

May God bless him wherever he goes,

This is my oft repeated prayer

My love for him no one knows

Yet he has my tenderest care.

GEORGE HANEY, Eldridge, Ala. Feb. 1897

 


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