Oh, I'm sorry for them when I witness their woe,
Their faces all wrinkle and twist about so;
And to their assistance I gladly would go—
But I dread the sad Valley of Grump, my dears,
I dread the sad Valley of Grump!
The sun never shines in the Valley of Grump;
The wind always blows from the east;
The air, I have noticed, is constantly chill,
And never warms up in the least.
As every one weeps, there are tears all the day;