'Why do I sing--Tra-la-la-la-la! <br />Glad as a King?--Tra-la-la-la-la! <br />Well, since you ask,-- <br />I have such a pleasant task, <br />I can not help but sing! <br /> <br />'Why do I smile--Tra-la-la-la-la! <br />Working the while?--Tra-la-la-la-la! <br />Work like this is play,-- <br />So I'm playing all the day-- <br />I can not help but smile! <br /> <br />'So, If you please--Tra-la-la-la-la! <br />Live at your ease!--Tra-la-la-la-la! <br />You've only got to turn, <br />And, you see, its bound to churn-- <br />I can not help but please!' <br /> <br />The farmer pondered and scratched his head, <br />Reading over each mystic word.-- <br />'Some o' the Dreamer's work!' he said-- <br />'Ah, here's more--and name and date <br />In his hand-write'!'--And the good man read,-- <br />''Patent applied for, July third, <br />Eighteen hundred and forty-eight'!' <br />The fragment fell from his nerveless grasp-- <br />His awed lips thrilled with the joyous gasp: <br />'I see the p'int to the whole concern,-- <br />He's studied out a patent churn!'<br /><br />James Whitcomb Riley<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/song-118/
