THE TRAVELING MAN

How many of you remember the golden days of yore When you were an uncouth urchin hanging ’round the village store, When the loafers saved the country—changed the tariff every day ’Mid the fumes of various mixtures of tobacco-labeled hay, How you forgot the colored candles and the tempting cookie can When the door was quickly opened and in walked the Traveling Man. ’Member how some way or other conversation seemed to stop, When he opened up his samples and your eyes would fairly pop At experiences he related as he took his order down, Talked about a three-ring circus—he was better than a clown, How you wondered and you worshiped and resolved to break each ban That would keep you from becoming, some day too, a Traveling Man. Never seemed he ever worried, life to him was always bright For you’d seen him in the morning and you’d seen him late at night: Altho’ he was always working you could always see his smile Wasn’t put on—just came natural, catchy, bubbling all the while; You resolved to be just like him, now deny it if you can, Your day dreams were filled with longing just to be a Traveling Man. Years have passed—you’ve lived to see all your boyhood dreams come true And now you’re doing daily all the things he used to do; Now you know he had his troubles which he smiled thru right along, But it makes your memory dearer—that his life was not all song; And like him you keep a-hustling, glad that you have joined the clan That begets true admiration—Here’s to you, A Traveling Man! —R. L. James