EVERY CLOUD HAS A SILVER LINING
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He can breathe "health-giving ozone" With no doctor's fees to pay—All distructive germs dispelling By "Fresh-air-cure" every day!
He should count the many blessings That around his pathway creep—No matter if the path's blockaded By a snow drift hard and deep,—He should cultivate his patience With a fortitude most rare; Ne 'er should frown beset his features— Never even wish to swear!
These R. F. D. chaps should be happy, But, alas, contentment damps When they worry that "we patrons" Don't lay in a stock of stamps,—If they'd gather up our pennies And not grumble, they would see Each and every patron murmur Blessings on the R. F. D.!"
