[Good-bye] to Trouble.
O, it's good-bye, Mister Trouble!
There's a joy the angels know,
With the mistletoe above us
And our sweet-hearts here below!
Then play the fiddle, Mister!
Love and laughter are in sight;
And swing your partners, fellers,
Till the dawning of the light!
O, its good-bye, Mister Trouble!
For the fiddle says, "Be gay!"
There's the mistletoe up yonder,
And we kiss the griefs away!
Caught on the Fly.
All things are forgiven to the woman who holds her tongue.
The greatest vice of the women is gossip, and the greatest folly of the men is greed.