It is no use to grumble and complain; It's just as cheap and easy to rejoice; When God sorts out the weather and sends rain - Why, rain's my choice.

Who bides his time tastes the sweet Of honey in the saltiest tear; And though he fares with slowest feet Joy runs to meet him drawing near.

The jelly - the jam and the marmalade, And the cherry-and quince-'preserves' she made! And the sweet-sour pickles of peach and pear, With cinnamon in 'em, and all things rare! And the more we ate was the more to spare, Out to old Aunt Mary's! Ah!

But the air's so appetizin'; and the landscape through the haze Of a crisp and sunny morning of the airly autumn days Is a pictur' that no painter has the colorin' to mock-When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock.

He is not dead, he is just - away.

I love the horse from hoof to head. From head to hoof and tail to mane. I love the horse as I have said - From head to hoof and back again.

It is no use to grumble and complain; It's just as cheap and easy to rejoice; When God sorts out the weather and sends rain - Why, rain's my choice.