On the hills of our New England

In the wild unsettled woodlands

In a little, low log cabin

Lived a father and that mother

Toiled and saved, and loved, their children.

As the years went on these parents

Left the little backwood’s cabin

Left the town of Rowe Massachausetts,

Took up their abode in Westfield,

Where good fortune seemed much brighter

Where more lives were sent to gladden

All along life’s lonely pathway.

It was in the grand old village

With its hills and vales and streamlets,

With the lovely Westfield river

Curving here and there in beauty

Till it joined the mother river

To flow onward to the ocean.

That a baby girl was given

To these fond and loving parents-

   Baby Caroline Eliza.

And this babe grew into girlhood,

Others came and took their places.

Then misfortune overtook them,

Swept away the hard earned savings

Of that father and that mother.

Then they left that home in Westfield

With the children God had spared them,

Came to Wallingford, and dwelt there;

Started life anew, still trusting

There were better days in store.

And we see this girl a woman

After eighteen years of girlhood.

And one night as she sat spinning,

Spinning by the lighted candle,

Someone called to see her father,

Called to see him on some business-

Also saw the girl Eliza.

Heretofore she had not known him,

But as he departed homeward,

Homeward toward the hills of Durham,

Stepped he quickly neath the window

Where he saw Eliza spinning.

Knocked he gently on the window,

And her heart-beats came the faster

And therafter came he often,

Not to see the sire on business,

But to see the girl Eliza.

Not in carriage, not in auto,

But on horseback came he courting

Came he for in nightly to see her

While she spun and while she mended

Clothes for father, and for brother

Held he patiently the candle

And spoke words of praise and fondness.

In due time the fair young maiden

Left her home and those who loved her

For the Coe homestead in Durham,

With young William who had won her.

As the years went on five children

Came to gladden these fond parents.

Three to man and womanhood opened

Two to Heaven went when children;

And today from those three children

Greet us all these happy faces.

Seventeen years we’ve met together

And each year we see new faces,

And each year we miss some dear one.

But we would not call them earthward,

Though our hearts yet hunger for them,

Rather we would meet together

With their blessings ‘till they call us

To another grand reunion,

Just behind the mists that hide them

From this world forever more.

And methinks as I look forward

Through the years that stretch before us,

I can see the Coes still coming

From the eastward, from the westward,

Not in carriages nor autos,

But in areoplanes and airships

Through the air they come in legions

To the famous Coe reunion.

Where for many ages

Coes have yearly met together,

I can see the fair young women

Of the future generation

Holding office, making speeches,

While the men look on in silence

An in patience wash the dishes,

Telling tales as they have heard them,

Of the days long since departed

When the men were office holders

When the women washed the dishes.

And they sigh for days that are not

Days that come not any more,

Looking backward, looking forward,

Thinking of the past and future,

Thankful be that we are living,

Not tomorrow, but today.