Ev’ry slope was a hill of it,

Ev’ry brook was a rill of it;

Ev’ry yard had three feet of it,

Ev’ry road was a sheet of it;

Ev’ry farm had a field of it,

Ev’ry town had a yield of it.

No use to glare at it,

No use to swear at it;

No use to get mad about it,

No use to feel sad about it;