A Heap O' Livin'

Excerpt

WHEN YOU KNOW A FELLOW

  When you get to know a fellow, know his joys
    and know his cares,
  When you've come to understand him and the
    burdens that he bears,
  When you've learned the fight he's making and
    the troubles in his way,
  Then you find that he is different than you
    thought him yesterday.
  You find his faults are trivial and there's not so
    much to blame
  In the brother that you jeered at when you only
    knew his name.

  You are quick to see the blemish in the distant
    neighbor's style,
  You can point to all his errors and may sneer
    at him the while,
  And your prejudices fatten and your hates
    more violent grow
  As you talk about the failures of the man you
    do not know,
  But when drawn a little closer, and your hands
    and shoulders touch,
  You find the traits you hated really don't
    amount to much.

  When you get to know a fellow, know his every
    mood and whim,
  You begin to find the texture of the splendid
    side of him;
  You begin to understand him, and you cease to
    scoff and sneer,
  For with understanding always prejudices disappear.
  You begin to find his virtues and his faults you
    cease to tell,
  For you seldom hate a fellow when you know
    him very well.

  When next you start in sneering and your
    phrases turn to blame,
  Know more of him you censure than his business
    and his name;
  For it's likely that acquaintance would your
    prejudice dispel
  And you'd really come to like him if you
    knew him very well.
  When you get to know a fellow and you understand
    his ways,
  Then his faults won't really matter, for you'll
    find a lot to praise.

{13}

THE ROUGH LITTLE RASCAL

  A smudge on his nose and a smear on his cheek
  And knees that might not have been washed in a week;
  A bump on his forehead, a scar on his lip,
  A relic of many a tumble and trip:
  A rough little, tough little rascal, but sweet,
  Is he that each evening I'm eager to meet.

  A brow that is beady with jewels of sweat;
  A face that's as black as a visage can get;
  A suit that at noon was a garment of white,
  Now one that his mother declares is a fright:
  A fun-loving, sun-loving rascal, and fine,
  Is he that comes placing his black fist in mine.

  A crop of brown hair that is tousled and tossed;
  A waist from which two of the buttons are lost;
  A smile that shines out through the dirt and the grime,
  And eyes that are flashing delight all the time:
  All these are the joys that I'm eager to meet
  And look for the moment I get to my street.

{14}

IT ISN'T COSTLY

  Does the grouch get richer quicker than the
     friendly sort of man?
  Can the grumbler labor better than the cheerful
     fellow can?
  Is the mean and churlish neighbor any cleverer
     than the one
  Who shouts a glad "good morning," and then
     smiling passes on...?