No Place To Go
by Edgar Albert Guest (1881-1959)
The happiest nights I ever know
Are those when I've no place to go,
And the missus says When the day is through: “To-night we haven’t a thing to do.”
Oh, the joy of it, and the peace untold Of sitting ’round in my slippers old, With my pipe and book in my easy chair, Knowing I needn’t go anywhere.
Needn’t hurry my evening meal
Nor force the smiles that I do not feel, But can grab a book from a near-by shelf, And drop all sham and be myself.
Oh, the charm of it and the comfort rare; Nothing on earth with it can compare; And I’m sorry for him who doesn't know The joy of having no place to go.