  I've made up my mind In spite of the cranks, 'Tis a pretty good world And we ought to give thanks; And whether it came From the God or the grime, The fellow that runs it Don't lose any time. I've made up my mind In spite of the tears. That the world clambers up With the roll of the years; And whether it gropes Or is led on and on, It will come by and by To the meadows of dawn. In spite of the sin And the folly around, 'Tis a much better place Than the fore-fathers found; And in spite of the fools And the devils that grieve I'm sure in no hurry To pull up and leave. So shut up your mouth And don't grumble nor croak; Go put your poor head And your poor heart in soak; Lay all of your sorrows And sins on the shelf, For the world is all right If you're all right yourself! |
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