His Kindly Efforts

His Kindly Efforts.
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He is one of these cheerful old boys.
If you ever get into a hole you
Will writhe at the means he employs
In his well-meant attempt to console you.
He will tell you that care killed a cat,
He will smile and say “Nonsense!” and “Pooh!
I would never feel bad over that,
It is nothing to what i’ve been through.”

When my grief makes me fairly despair
And I’m perfectly willing to pot it,
He will come with his jovial air
And inform me I ought to forget it.
He will tell me ‘t’s no use to cry
Over milk that is spilled or get blue
And he always winds up with a, “why,
It is nothing to what I’ve been through,”

His intentions, I know, are first rate,
But with wrath it will make people bubble,
For you know that we most of us hate
To have others make light of our trouble.
When your woes you attempt to rehearse
He will say, “Well, don’t make an ado,
For you know that it might have been worse.
It is nothing to what I’ve been through.”