It may rain to-morrow; When a pain won't come their way,
Future pains they borrow.
If there's good news to be heard,
Ears are stuffed with cotton;
Evils dire are oft inferred;
Good is all forgotten.
When upon a peel I stand,
Slippin' like a goner,
Luck, I trust, will shake my hand
Just around the corner.
Keep a scarecrow in the yard,
Fierce old bulldog near 'em;
Chase off joy that's tryin' hard
To come in an' cheer 'em.
Wear their blinders big and strong,
Dodge each happy sight;
Like to keep their faces long;
Think the day is night.
Now I've had my share of trouble;
Back been bent with ill;
Big load makes the joy seem double
When I mount the hill.
Got the toothache in their soul;
Corns upon their feelin's;
Get their share but want the whole,
Say it's crooked dealings.
Natures steeped in indigo;
Got their joy-wires crossed;
Swear it's only weeds that grow;
Flowers always lost.
Now it's best to sing a song
'Stead o' sit and mourn;
Rose you'll find grows right along
Bigger than the thorn.
Beat the frogs the way they croak;
See with goggles blue--
Universe is cracked or broke,
'Bout to split in two.
Think the world is full of sin,
Soon go up the spout;
Badness always movin' in,
Goodness movin' out.
But I've found folks good and kind,
'Cause I thought they would be;
Most men try, at least I find,
To be what they should be.
Joseph Morris.
