I'd like to be the sort of friend that
you have been to me;
I'd like to be the help that
you've been always glad to be;
I'd like to mean as much to you
each minute of the day
As you have meant, old friend of mine,
to me along the way.
I'd like to do the big things and
the splendid things for you,
To brush the gray from out your skies
and leave them only blue;
I'd like to say the kindly things that
I so oft have heard,
And feel that I could rouse your soul
the way that mine you've stirred.
I'd like to give you back the joy
that you have given me,
Yet that were wishing you a need
I hope will never be;
I'd like to make you feel
as rich as I, who travel on
Undaunted in the darkest
hours with you to lean upon.
I'm wishing at this time that
I could but repay
A portion of the gladness that
you've strewn along my way;
And could I have one wish this year,
this only would it be:
I'd like to be the sort of friend
that you have been to me.
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