Many people seem to get pleasure in seeing all the bad there is, and in making everything about them gloomy. They are like the old woman who on being asked how her health was, replied: "Thank the Lord, I'm poorly."

Some folks git a heap o' pleasure
Out o' lookin' glum;
Hoard their cares like it was treasure—
Fear they won't have some.
Wear black border on their spirit;
Hang their hopes with crape;
Future's gloomy and they fear it,
Sure there's no escape.

Now there ain't no use of whining
Weightin' joy with lead;
There is silver in the linin'
Somewhere on ahead.

Can't enjoy the sun to-day—
It may rain to-morrow;
When a pain won't come their way,
Future pains they borrow.
If there's good news to be heard,
Ears are stuffed with cotton;
Evils dire are oft inferred;
Good is all forgotten.

When upon a peel I stand,
Slippin' like a goner,
Luck, I trust, will shake my hand
Just around the corner.

Keep a scarecrow in the yard,
Fierce old bulldog near 'em;
Chase off joy that's tryin' hard
To come in an' cheer 'em.
Wear their blinders big and strong,
Dodge each happy sight;
Like to keep their faces long;
Think the day is night.

Now I've had my share of trouble;
Back been bent with ill;
Big load makes the joy seem double
When I mount the hill.

Got the toothache in their soul;
Corns upon their feelin's;
Get their share but want the whole,
Say it's crooked dealings.
Natures steeped in indigo;
Got their joy-wires crossed;
Swear it's only weeds that grow;
Flowers always lost.

Now it's best to sing a song
'Stead o' sit and mourn;
Rose you'll find grows right along
Bigger than the thorn.

Beat the frogs the way they croak;
See with goggles blue—
Universe is cracked or broke,
'Bout to split in two.
Think the world is full of sin,
Soon go up the spout;
Badness always movin' in,
Goodness movin' out.

But I've found folks good and kind,
'Cause I thought they would be;
Most men try, at least I find,
To be what they should be.

Joseph Morris.