Will Carleton

Not all the labor of the earth
Is done by hardened hands.

Not all the labor of the earth
Is done by hardened hands.

The editor sat in his sanctum, his countenance furrowed with
care,
His mind at the bottom of business, read more

The editor sat in his sanctum, his countenance furrowed with
care,
His mind at the bottom of business, his feet at the top of a
chair,
His chair-arm an elbow supporting, his right hand upholding his
head,
His eyes on his dusty table, with different documents spread.

Thanksgiving-day, I fear,
If one the solemn truth must touch,
Is celebrated, not so much
read more

Thanksgiving-day, I fear,
If one the solemn truth must touch,
Is celebrated, not so much
To thank the Lord for blessing o'er,
As for the sake of getting more!

And that was the way
The deuce was to pay
As it always is, at the close read more

And that was the way
The deuce was to pay
As it always is, at the close of the day
That gave us--
Hurray! Hurray! Hurray!
(With some restrictions, the fault-finders say)
That which, please God, we will keep for aye
Our National Independence!

But I have learned a thing or two; I know as sure as fate,
When we lock up our read more

But I have learned a thing or two; I know as sure as fate,
When we lock up our lives for wealth, the gold key comes too
late.