Cry his sorrow hid of men,
And then—
Touch hands with God.
MY LIPS WOULD SING ⸺
By Edmund Leamy
My lips would sing a song for you, a soulful little song for you,
A plaintive little song for you, upon a summer’s day;
But for the very life of me, the merry, merry life of me,
The laughter-loving life of me, I cannot but be gay.
For oh, the sun is shining, Dear, and who could be repining, Dear,