As One Who Cons At Evening O'er

The Ripest Peach Is Highest On The Tree

As One Who Cons At Evening O'er An Album All Alone, And Muses On The Faces Of The Friends That He Has Known, So I Turn The Leaves Of Fancy, Till In Shadowy Design I Find The Smiling Features Of An Old Sweetheart Of Mine.

He Is Not Dead, He Is Just - Away.

It Is No Use To Grumble And Complain; It's Just As Cheap And Easy To Rejoice; When God Sorts Out The Weather And Sends Rain - Why, Rain's My Choice.

I Don't Know How To Tell It--but Ef Such A Thing Could Be As The Angels Wantin' Boardin', And They'd Call Around On Me-- I'd Want To 'ccommodate 'em--all The Whole-in-durin' Flock-- When The Frost Is On The Punkin And The Fodder's In The Shock.