There is cause for many stings,
     In the way some folks do things,
Some go at it “hammer ‘n’ tongs,”
     Some with curses, some with songs;
But to each some trait belongs,
 
Some have soured on everything,
     Can’t find aught without a sting,
There are others not so sour,
     Who find on every thorn a flower,
And for good they are a power,
 
As I’ve traveled life’s pathway,
     I’ve found grumbling doesn’t pay,
Of the kicker folks have tired;
     He’s no longer much admired,
From good company he’s been “fired,”
 
As I walk along the street,
     I look for the good and sweet,
All the sour ones I pass by,
     And the only reason why -
I couldn’t like them if I’d try,
 
So, my friend, take my advice,
     Don’t let me have to tell you twice,
If you would ever happy be,
     Don’t be sour with all you see,
But be joyous, happy and free.

This poem is in the public domain.