Grooanin, mooanin, an' grummelin, is abaat th' warst way o' spendin one's time. If yo come in for a lot o' gooid things, enjoy 'em wol yo've th' chance, an' dooant pass by ivery flaar 'at smiles along yor path for fear yo may find a twitch-clock i' one. An' if things dooant turn aght just as gooid as yo'd like' em, try to mak th' best o' th' bit o' gooid ther is in 'em.
They tell me this world's full o' trouble,
An' each one comes in for a share;
An' pleasure they say is a bubble,
'At gooas floating away up in th' air.
But aw'll niver give way to repinin,
Tho' th' claads may luk gloomy an' black,
For they all have a silvery linin,
An' some day shall breeten awr track.
Let other fowk brood o'er ther sorrow,