An’ sweep yer dusty soul of gloom.
Plant flowers in the soul’s front yard,
Set out new shade an’ blossom trees,
An’ let the soul once froze an’ hard
Sprout crocuses of new idees.
Yes, clean yer house, an’ clean yer shed,
An’ clean yer barn in ev’ry part;
But brush the cobwebs from yer head,
An’ sweep the snow-banks from yer heart!(Text.)
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