You can rig up a house with all manner of things,
the prayer rugs of sultans and princes and kings,
you can hang on it's walls the old tapestries
rare which some dead egyptain once treasured with
care,
but though costly and gorgeous its furnishings are
it must have to be home like, an old cookie jar.
There are just a few things that a home must possess
besides all your money and all your succes,
a few good old books which some loved one has read,
some trinkets of those whose sweet spirits have fled,
and then in the pantry not shoved back too far
for the hungry to get to, that old cookie jar.
Let the house be a mansion, I care not at all,
let the finest of pictures be hung on each wall,
let the carpets be made of the richest velour,
and the chairs only those which great wealth
can procure,
I'd still want to keep for the joy of my flock
that harmony, old fashioned, well filld cookie crook,
Like the love of the mother it shines through
our years,
it has paid us for toiling in sorrow or joy,
it has always shown kindness to each girl and boy,
and I'm sorry for people whoever they are,
who live in a house where there's no cookie jar.
