The stick-together families
Are happier by far
Than the brothers and sisters
Who take separate highways are;
The gladdest people living
Are the wholesome folks who make
A circle at the fireside
That no power but death can break,
And the finest of conventions
Ever held beneath the sun,
Are the little family gatherings
When busy days are done.
There are some who seem to fancy
That for gladness they must roam,
That for smiles that are the brightest,
They must wander far from home.
That a strange friend is a true friend,
And they travel far astray,
And they waste their lives in striving
For a joy that’s far away.
But the gladdest sort of people
When the busy day is done,
Are the brothers and the sisters
Who together share their fun.
It’s the stick-together family
That wins the joy of earth,
That hears the sweetest music
And finds the finest mirth.
It’s the old home roof that shelters
All the charm that life can give,
And oh, weary wandering brother,
If contentment you would win,
Come you back into the fireside,
And be comrade with your kin.