A Good Fellow

My friend is a good, good fellow,

     Whatever you say of him;

You may call him cheap, and yellow,

     Or lazy up to the brim.

He’s white, he’s true and he’s worthy,

     I shall stick to him through ill;

What more can I say? Slur him you may,

     He’s a good, good fellow still.

The world looks on a good fellow,

     As easy, and weak and slow;

Las, unambitious and mellow

     Without any snap or go.

Perhaps there are such, I know not,

     My friends are good fellows all,

They’ve plenty of grit, shrewdness and wit,

     And keep far out from the wall.

Ah! Give me a good, good fellow,

     Whatever the world may say;

His heart not his head is mellow,

     I know where he stands today.

Good-hearted and kind and gentle,

     A fighter when treated ill;

The world may deride, but not decide –

     Give me a good fellow still.

Jan. 27, ‘09