By Octave F. Ursenbach
I ain’t much on filosofy,
And don’t know much sikology;
Yit sometimes things don’t seem to me
Ezzackly as they ought to be,
Cause when I see a big souled man,
Do jist the level best he can
To make a feller’s life seem bright,
And make sunshine of darkest night;
Then jist cause he ain’t steeped in schemes,
To hoard up useless gold, it seems
That he ain’t in the game today.
At least, it seems to me that way.
Why ain’t man measured by his soul
Instead of by his bag of gold;
Cause when he’s dead his wealth will flee –
His soul must face eternity.