OCR Text |
Show RUTS The world is full o' ruts, my boy, some shaller an' some deep, ' .' And every rut is full o' folks, as high as they can heap; Each one that's grovelin' in the ditch is growlin' at his fate, And wishin' he had got his chance before it was too late. They lay it all on someone else or say 'twas just their luck, They never once consider that 'twas caused by lack o' pluck. But here's the work o' one that's lived clean through from soup to nuts : The Lord don't send no derricks 'round to hist folks out o' ruts. Some folks has stayed in ruts until they didn'tf like the place, Then scrambled out onto the road and entered in the race. Such ones has always found a hand held out for them, to grab An' cling to till they lost the move peculiar to the crab. But only them that helps themselves an' tries for better things Will ever see the helpin' hand to which each climber clings. So here's the hard, plain, solemn, facts, without no ifs or buts : TheLord don't send no derricks 'round to hist folks out o' ruts. |