Lemon Pie
by Edgar Guest (1881-1959)

The world is full of gladness,
   There are joys of many kinds,
There’s a cure for every sadness,
   That each troubled mortal finds.
And my little cares grow lighter
   And I cease to fret and sigh,
And my eyes with joy grow brighter
   When she makes a lemon pie.

When the bronze is on the filling
   That’s one mass of shining gold,
And its molten joy is spilling
   On the plate, my heart grows bold
And the kids and I in chorus
   Raise one glad exultant cry
And we cheer the treat before us
   Which is mother’s lemon pie.

Then the little troubles vanish,
   And the sorrows disappear,
Then we find the grit to banish
   All the cares that hovered near,
And we smack our lips in pleasure
   O’er a joy no coin can buy,
And we down the golden treasure
   Which is known as lemon pie.

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