"How's things?" says I, <br />Says he 'Not bad, <br />They might be worse, <br />But then I 'm glad <br />They ain't.' That's all <br />He had to say, <br />An' whistled as <br />He went away. <br /> <br />He had his troubles, <br />That I knew, <br />And sorrows also <br />Grieved him, too. <br />But not a word <br />Of them, says he, <br />But kep' 'em to <br />Himself, you see. <br /> <br />'How's things? ' says I, <br />'Not bad,' says he, <br />'They might be worse,' <br />An' seems to me, <br />That's jes' the thing <br />We all should say <br />About our troubles <br />Every day. <br /> <br />They might be worse, <br />Of course they might. <br />This thought should put <br />Our gloom to flight. <br />Let's cease our <br />Troubles to rehearse, <br />And tell our friends <br />They might be worse.<br /><br />Edgar Albert Guest<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-way-to-do/
