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OLD DOG TRAY
(Stephen Collins Foster)

The morn of life is past,
And evening comes at last;
It brings me a dream of a once happy day,
Of merry forms I've seen
Upon the village green,
Sporting with my old dog Tray.

Cho: Old dog Tray's ever faithful,
Grief cannot drive him away.
He's gentle, he is kind;
I'll never, never find
A better friend than old dog Tray.

The forms I call'd my own
Have vanished one by one,
The lov'd ones, the dear ones have all passed away.
Their happy smiles have flown,
Their gentle voices gone;
I've nothing left but old dog Tray.

Copyright S. C. Foster, 1853
@nostalgia @aging @dog
filename[ DOGTRAY
RG
APR99



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