Where everything is tumbled down
And skies are dark and dreary?
Move over into Gladville where
Your face will don a happy air,
And lay aside your cross of care
For smiles all bright and cheery.
A faithful friend is a strong defence, and he that hath found him hath found a treasure.—Ecclesiasticus.
In Grumbletown there’s not a joy
But has a shadow of alloy
That must its happiness destroy