On this terrestchul ball;--
But all the same, the rain, some way,
Rained jest as hard on picnic day;
Er, when they railly WANTED it,
It mayby wouldn't rain a bit!

In this existunce, dry and wet
Will overtake the best of men--
Some little skift o' clouds'll shet
The sun off now and then.--
And mayby, whilse you're wundern who
You've fool-like lent your umbrell' to,
And WANT it--out'll pop the sun,
And you'll be glad you hain't got none!

It aggervates the farmers, too--
They's too much wet, er too much sun,
Er work, er waitin' round to do
Before the plowin' 's done:
And mayby, like as not, the wheat,
Jest as it's lookin' hard to beat,
Will ketch the storm--and jest about
The time the corn's a-jintin' out.

These-here CY-CLONES a-foolin' round--
And back'ard crops!--and wind and rain!--
And yit the corn that's wallerd down
May elbow up again!--
They hain't no sense, as I can see,
Fer mortuls, sich as us, to be