By William Henry Dawson
Have you ever wished when fretting
‘Bout the chilly air of spring,
When the days are longer getting
And the frogs begin to sing,
Have you ever wished that you could
Just change places with the frog—
Let him shoulder all your trouble
And then leave you on the log,
In the middle of the mill-pond,
Nothing in the world to do?
Have you wished you could change places,
You be frog and frog be you?
He don’t fret ’bout rainy weather;
If the sun shines he don’t cry;
He just takes it all together;
Happy wet and happy dry.
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