O, It Sets My Heart A Clickin'

But The Air's So Appetizin'; And The Landscape Through The Haze Of A Crisp And Sunny Morning Of The Airly Autumn Days Is A Pictur' That No Painter Has The Colorin' To Mock-when The Frost Is On The Punkin And The Fodder's In The Shock.

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.

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

When You Awaken Some Morning And Hear That Somebody Or Other Has Been Discovered, You Can Put It Down As A Fact That He Discovered Himself Years Ago - Since That Time He Has Been Toiling, Working, And Striving To Make Himself Worthy Of General Discovery.

Who Bides His Time Tastes The Sweet Of Honey In The Saltiest Tear; And Though He Fares With Slowest Feet Joy Runs To Meet Him Drawing Near.