Not All The Labour Of

And That Was The Way The Deuce Was To Pay As It Always Is, At The Close Of The Day That Gave Us

Over The Hill To The Poor-house I'm Trudgin' My Weary Way.

But I Have Learned A Thing Or Two; I Know As Sure As Fate, When We Lock Up Our Lives For Wealth, The Gold Key Comes Too Late.

Thanksgiving-day, I Fear, If One The Solemn Truth Must Touch, Is Celebrated, Not So Much To Thank The Lord For Blessing O'er, As For The Sake Of Getting More!

Over All Our Happy Country - Over All Our Nation Spread, Is A Band Of Noble Heroes - Is Our Army Of The Dead.