codex002489-050v

Will do a sight toward feedin
All the hungry hens & chicks.
So whats the use o' whinin'
If the sun o' things dont suit
You get to smell the blossoms
Tho' some insect, takes the fruit.
I reckon lifes so happy -
I can wander where I please -
And find so much of honey
I'm a "robbin of the bees."

A happy lifes, dependent -
Not on gumption, or on grit
But just the plain philosophy
Of "make-the-best-of-it.
Of course, I ain't denyin -
Sorrow's stalking thro' the land.
But, her Sister Joy, is with her -
An - a holdin of her hand.
So write me down as happy
In the Summer, Spring, or fall -
And even storms o winter doesn't ice the blossoms all
So I jes keep on a huntin - in the fragrance, or the [freezes]
An I find so much o' honey, I'm a "robbin o' the bees."