Over All Our Happy Country - Over

The Editor Sat In His Sanctum, His Countenance Furrowed With Care, His Mind At The Bottom Of Business, His Feet At The Top Of A Chair, His Chair-arm An Elbow Supporting, His Right Hand Upholding His Head, His Eyes On His Dusty Old Table, With Different Documents Spread.

Worm Or Beetle - Drought Or Tempest - On A Farmer's Land May Fall, Each Is Loaded Full O' Ruin, But A Mortgage Beats 'em All.

Over All Our Happy Country - Over All Our Nation Spread, Is A Band Of Noble Heroes - Is Our Army Of The Dead.

Thanksgiving-day, I Fear, If One The Solemn Truth Must Touch, Is Celebrated, Not So Much To Thank The Lord For Blessing O'er, As For The Sake Of Getting More!

If There's A Heaven Upon The Earth, A Fellow Knows It When He's Been Away From Home A Week, And Then Gets Back Again.