He Is Not Dead, He Is Just

Oh, The World's A Curious Compound, With Its Honey And Its Gall, With Its Cares And Bitter Crosses, But A Good World After All. And A Good God Must Have Made It-leastways, That Is What I Say, When A Hand Is On My Shoulder In A Friendly Sort Of Way.

O, It Sets My Heart A Clickin' Like The Tickin' Of A Clock, When The Frost Is On The Punkin And The Fodder's In The Shock.

To Make The World A Friendly Place, One Must Show It A Friendly Face.

Long About Knee-deep In June, 'bout The Time Strewberries Melts On The Vine.

The Jelly - The Jam And The Marmalade, And The Cherry-and Quince-'preserves' She Made! And The Sweet-sour Pickles Of Peach And Pear, With Cinnamon In 'em, And All Things Rare! And The More We Ate Was The More To Spare, Out To Old Aunt Mary's! Ah!