WHISTLE, BILL

When the skies are dull and gray,

When the sun is fur away,

When all Natur acts as if

She would like to hand a biff,

When your courage starts to drop,

An’ you’ve lost your surest prop,

An’ you’re pale around the gill,

That’s the time to whistle, Bill.

When the flues don’t draw fust rate,

An’ the breakfast it is late,

When the cleanin’ house comes round,

An’ you dread the sight an’ sound,

When the wife wants this an’ that,

An’ the children all act “scat”,

When you’d like to make your will,

That’s the time to whistle, Bill.

When the creditors flock round,

“Campin’” on your local ground,

Or, if on the other hand,

You are campin’ on their land,

An’ you cannot raise a sou

Out of all the motley crew,

Wonderin’ if you ever will –

That’s the time to whistle, Bill.

               Joe Cone

Whistle, Bill, a lively tune

Like the meller days in June;

Whistle mornin’, noon an’ night

Speshly when the skies ain’t bright.

Takes your mind frum down below

To the heights it orter go.

You kin cure most any ill

Ef you whistle, whistle Bill!

c. Dec .6-8, 1912