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Littell's Living Age/Volume 173/Issue 2240/Saturday Songs

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218608Littell's Living AgeVolume 173, Issue 2240 : Saturday SongsFrederick Langbridge

If ever it should come about
That you and Tom seem falling out;
You feel your temper's got the slip,
And cutting words are on your lip;
Or if you linger, half enticèd,
To tell some story highly spicèd,
About the doings, wrong and rash,
Of Mr. Blank and Mrs. Dash;
            Why, here's a bit of homely rhyme
                  With counsel sage and true:
            Some other time, some other time —
                  Some other time will do.

If you and Tom have had a tiff —
For Tom is hot and you are stiff —
And when you turn, and doubting stand,
And think "I ought to take his hand;"
Or if poor Jack, your neighbor there,
Has got a heavy load to bear,
And just a friendly word to Jack
Might make it lighter on his back;
            Why, here's a bit of homely rhyme
                  With counsel sage and true:
            Oh, now's the time, the only time —
                  No other time will do.

If, walking in or out of town,
You meet with Jones, or Smith, or Brown;
And Jones remarks (that friendly chap)
"The Crown has got a decent tap;"
But "Mary's gown," you think, "is old,
And Sammy's boots must soon be soled;
Yet, all the same, a glass of beer
Is rather nice, and far from dear;
            Why, here's a bit of homely rhyme
                  With counsel sage and true:
            Some other time, some other time —
                  Some other time will do.

If Green or Gray, who scorns to shirk,
Is out of luck and out of work,
And round his door, with savage growl,
The gaunt old wolf begins to prowl;
And — though (with eggs at twopence each)
The ends don't greatly overreach —
You think, "I'll give a hand to Gray—
I really will — some other day;
            Why, here's a bit of homely rhyme
                  With counsel sage and true:
            Oh, now's the time, the only time —
                  No other time will do.

One wrote of old, a sage and king,
A time there is for every thing;
For every work beneath the sun,
A season when 'tis meetly done.
For selfish folly, idle play,
The season is — some other day;
For loving aid and service true,
Oh, now's the time to me and you.
            One word to close my homely rhyme —
                  An earnest word and true:
            There's little time, there's little time,
                  And lots of work to do.