And when people are cross, they have little to say;
And when faces are ugly, they look t'other way—
So beware of the Valley of Grump, my dears,
Beware of the Valley of Grump!
The sun never shines in the Valley of Grump
Yet sometimes they speak in the Valley of Grump,
And their language, I'm told, is a whine—
You may have been troubled by sound of that speech,
But I hope that fate won't be mine.