On The Way
Sing you a song in the garden of life
If only you gather a thistle
Sing you a song
As you travel along
And if you can’t sing- why, just whistle!
He went so blithely on the way
Which people call the road of life
The good folks who had stopped to pray
Shaking their heads, would look and say
It is not right to be so gay
Upon that weary road of strife!
He whistled as he went, and still
He bore the young where streams were deep
And helped the feeble up the hill
He seemed to go with heart a-thrill
Careless of deed and wild of will
He whistled- that he might not weep.