Ifrere is no íriciKi l.Uc !i.e oUl r'rioiid to make the fond heart bleed When he. meets you with a supercilíous sir And his glancing eye assures yo-a that he knows yon're gone to seed And 'tis no more use for hiiu to treat you fair. Oh, his fine affected tone As he talka with you alone And the patronizing cadeneo oí his volee, For the fooi can scarce construe The subjective sírength in you Or he would not so pretentiously rejoice. There is no friend like the oíd friend to make the fond heart wid As he turca away his herid to see you not, Forgetting all the favors from your hands that he has had- 'Tis so rich to cut you dead upon the spot. Oh, his blank and stony glare, Shot straight up into the air And the dignified demeanor of his back! Ah, fooi, beyond the days Of his hypocritic praise, Now dark Ñemesis to cali upon his track! There ia no friend like the old friend to make the heart rejoice When he graba your toil hard hand and huga it tight, The old ring and the true ring in his well remembered voice, While his eyes are filled with inanifest delight, For he greets you with a shout, Simulation all left out, A hearty friend, a lifelong friend, pure gold, And he holds you long and late With a forcé as strong as fate- The bond of faithful friendship grand and old. There is no friend like the old friend to drive dul) care away, To lift the laden breast and make it stout. Like a burst of summer sunshine his presence glads the day And puts the devil's blue to utter rout, Por what's the odds to him If your prospects yet are dim And the binding of your vest is wora and f rayed ? Like a rock he stands by you With a friendship warm and true And a faithful sense of honor unbetrayed.