Thanksgiving-day, I fear, If one the solemn truth must touch, Is celebrated, not so much To thank the Lord for blessing o'er, As for the sake of getting more!

We thank Thee, O Father of all, for... all the soul-help that sad souls understand.

To appreciate heaven well, it's good for a person to have some fifteen minutes of hell.

Cover them over with beautiful flowers, Deck them with garlands, those brothers of ours, Lying so silent by night and by day.

Worm or beetle - drought or tempest - on a farmer's land may fall, Each is loaded full o' ruin, but a mortgage beats 'em all.

But I have learned a thing or two; I know as sure as fate, when we lock up our lives for wealth, the gold key comes too late.

Over all our happy country - over all our Nation spread, Is a band of noble heroes - is our Army of the Dead.