Song

"Why do I sing--Tra-la-la-la-la! Glad as a King?--Tra-la-la-la-la! Well, since you ask,-- I have such a pleasant task, I can not help but sing!

"Why do I smile--Tra-la-la-la-la! Working the while?--Tra-la-la-la-la! Work like this is play,-- So I'm playing all the day-- I can not help but smile!

"So, If you please--Tra-la-la-la-la! Live at your ease!--Tra-la-la-la-la! You've only got to turn, And, you see, its bound to churn-- I can not help but please!"

The farmer pondered and scratched his head, Reading over each mystic word.-- "Some o' the Dreamer's work!" he said-- "Ah, here's more--and name and date In his hand-write'!"--And the good man read,-- "'Patent applied for, July third, Eighteen hundred and forty-eight'!" The fragment fell from his nerveless grasp-- His awed lips thrilled with the joyous gasp: "I see the p'int to the whole concern,-- He's studied out a patent churn!"