Seek Not For Fresher Founts Afar, Just

Let Me Live In My House By The Side Of The Road, Where The Race Of Men Go By; They Are Good, They Are Bad; They Are Weak, They Are Strong, Wise, Foolish,--so Am I; Then Why Should I Sit In The Scorner's Seat, Or Hurl The Cynic's Ban? Let Me Live In My House By The Side Of The Road, And Be A Friend To Man.

I Say The Very Things That Make The Greatest Stiran' The Most Interestin' Things, Are Things That Did N't Occur.

There Are Purple Grapes In The Land Of Git-thare.

Seek Not For Fresher Founts Afar, Just Drop Your Bucket Where You Are; And While The Ship Right Onward Leaps, Uplift It From The Exhaustless Deeps. Parch Not Your Life With Dry Despair; The Stream Of Hope Flow Everywhere-- So Under Every Sky And Star, Just Drop Your Bucket Where You Are.

Seek Not For Fresher Founts Afar, Just Drop You Bucket Where You Are.