She turned her round from the baking bread, And she faced him with a cheerful laugh; “Why, husband, dear, one would think That the good rich wheat was only chaff. And what if the wheat was only chaff, As long as we both are well and strong? I’m not a woman to worry a bit,— Somehow or other we get along.
Into some lives some rain must fall, Over all lands the storm must beat; But when the rain and storm are o’er, The after sunshine is twice as sweet. Through every strait we have found a road, In every grief we’ve found a song; We’ve had to bear, and had to wait,— But somehow or other we get along.
For thirty years we have loved each other, Stood by each other whatever befell; Six boys have called us father and mother, And all of them living and doing well. We owe no man a penny, my dear, We’re both of us loving, well, and strong: Good man, I wish you would smoke again, And think how well we’ve got along.”
He filled his pipe with a pleasant laugh; He kissed his wife with a tender pride; He said, “I’ll do as you tell me, love; I’ll just count up on the other side.” She left him then with his better thought, And lifted her work with a low, sweet song,— A song that followed me many a year: “Somehow or other we get along.”
TATERS.
(WITH A CHORUS.)
Of all the wonderful works of Nater, What surprises me most, she can make a tater! She gathers the stuff to produce a skin, And then gradually stuffs the tater in.
Chorus. Tater! tater! Best bread made by Nater! No baker alive could make a tater.