Ain’ t no use as I can see
In sittin’ underneath a tree
An’ growlin’ that your luck is bad,
An’ that your life is extry sad;
Your life ain’ t sadder than your neighbor’ s
Nor any harder are your labors;
It rains on him the same as you,
An’ he has work he hates to do;
An’ he gits tired an’ he gits cross,
An’ he has trouble with the boss;
You take his whole life, through an’ through,
Why, he’ s no better off than you.
If whinin’ brushed the clouds away
I wouldn’ t have a word to say;
If it made good friends out o’ foes
I’ d whine a bit, too, I suppose;
But when I look around an’ see
A lot o’ men resemblin’ me,
An’ see ’ em sad, an’ see ’ em gay
With work t’ do most every day,
Some full o’ fun, some bent with care,
Some havin’ troubles hard to bear,
I reckon, as I count my woes,
They’ re ’ bout what everybody knows.
The day I find a man who’ ll say
He’ s never known a rainy day,
Who’ ll raise his right hand up an’ swear
In forty years he’ s had no care,
Has never had a single blow,
An’ never known one touch o’ woe,
Has never seen a loved one die,
Has never wept or heaved a sigh,
Has never had a plan go wrong,
But allas laughed his way along;
Then I’ ll sit down an’ start to whine
That all the hard luck here is mine.