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Show ' 4- ! Walt Mason j L CK OF WORRY. Yaerc's no'hlnf.' 1 can worry o I a i my dally mund, and so my heri Is sad and sore, and briny tears abound. The larder s stocked with luscloua plea, the cellar's full of spuds, ami i every morning, when I rise. I have a H change of duds. The diamonds on my J harness clank. I have silk shirts galore, and I have money in the bank, and credit at the store. No man can say i I am in debt for thlsr that or tho-ie, and so I've no excuse to fret or nurso a string of woes. And. having no excuse ex-cuse to brood, I brood and fret and H cuss, and in a fierce and bitter mood H I make a ghastly fuss. For worry H Is a state of mind that every man H cnJos. and he grows weary of his H grind if not a thing annoys. Without a grievance he Is lost, his mental In-narda In-narda ache, he'll find a woe at any H cost e'en though It be a fake And H so I grumble when It rains and file H a savage roar, and when tho sunshine gllda the plains. I grumble all the moic H Man wasn't born to go his way without with-out a cross or care: some ill should H prod him every day, or he is in des-pair des-pair A sugar diet fattens men but H undermines the spine a dash of bitters H now and then, or vinegar, is fine. H |