Uncle Bill'S Idea

I've figgered out that worryin' don't pay a little bit, Fer every feller's got to have some trouble in his day; An' wonderin' what's comin' next don't help to sidetrack hit-- You can't foretell afflictions, or stop 'em, thataway! It's better jest to take what's sent And stand it, ef you ain't content!

Looks like to me that every one has got a large amount Of things to bear that he don't like, as through this life he goes; And though of happy days we're apt to lose the rightful count, Things even up before we die, as every old man knows. There ain't no great monopoly On sickness ner bad luck, I gee!

We've got to stand our share of pain and meet a heap of sorrow; We've got to shoulder burdens that no one likes to tote; But worryin' about the load, and thinkin' of th' morrow Don't make it one mite easier, er cheerfuller, I note! Th' way to do is jest t' grin And hope for better times ag'in; "But I can't grin!" some people say. Then don't--but bear it, anyway!