"Doing Pretty Well."
There are many that you meet with
Who are always full of gloom,
And [they] chew the rag forever
'Bout the darkness of their doom;
But as through the world we journey,
There's a joy that none may tell
When we meet the pleasant people
Who are "doing pretty well."
There are fellows by the dozens
Who are always in the skies,
And forever capture fortunes
Of the most gigantic size;
But we stagger from their presence
And their glories that repel,
For the quiet-spoken persons
Who are "doing pretty well."
O, it's neither sun nor shadow
All the time from year to year,—
And it's neither all of pleasure
Or of pain,—the journey here!
But whatever clouds may gather
Or what sunshine, for a spell
Let us keep a steady temper
And keep "doing pretty well!"
Caught on the Fly.
Hitch your wagon to a star, if you will, but always stand ready to throw the harness on the mules, also.