Sung by T. M. Hengler.
Mr. Tupper has written a book,
"Proverbial Philosophy" named;
In its pages oft I look,
For the sentences there are famed.
There's a maxim for every day
And a motto for every man,
If you wish to be happy and gay,
The philosopher points the plan;
I have studied some of the proverbs wise,
And trust we've not learnt them wrong,
So list to the words of wisdom
And advice that flows through my song.
Now, where there's a way there's a will,
That you must own is most true;
A still head makes a wise tongue,
You don't know what you can try till you do;
A mile is as good as a miss,
Attend to these golden rules,
And be careful between the grounds.
Or else you'll fall on the stools.
Spare the child and spoil the rod
If you would peace secure,
And it's no use looking he horse up
If you've lost the stable door.
A feast is as good as enough,
60 says this wonderful book;
Waste and you never will want,
For too many broths spoil the cook;
Every day has his dog,
There's wisdom in every word;
So hold up your man like a head,
For the early worm catches the bird;
A bird in the bush is worth two in the baud,
So all you covetous elves,
You must never look after the pence,
Then the pounds will run after themselves.
Faint lady has ne'er won fair heart,
Between I, the gate post and you;
You must never put off till to-day
What you to-morrow can do;
Mau wafts for no time or tide,
And good bush needs no wine;
There's nothing success like succeeds,
And a stitch in nine saves time;
A gross a day is a pen per year,
So always do things by halves;
For while the seed is growing
The grass very often starves.
Rolling moss gathers no stone.
In this marvelous work I have read;
Deep water runs very still,
The least mended soonest said;
Half a none's better than a loaf,
So let this be your plan:
Never push the hill
When it's going down the man;
It's a very wise father that knows his own child,
And it ought to be written in gold.
That it's better to be off with the new love
Before you get on with the old.
When the wit's in the wine's out,
More speed, less haste, we learn;
Once a child-twice a man,
So do a good can when you turn;
Those who live in stone houses
Shouldn't throw glass I'm sure;
When loves comes in at the window.
Poverty flies from the door;
Late to bed and late to rise,
It is the truth I tell,
Will make you unhealthy, not wealthy nor wise,
But make you look wretched as well.
When the mice are away the cats play,
So bear this well in mind;
The proof of the eating is in
The pudding, you'll always find;
Go worse and you farther will fare,
So no more in the book will I dip;
But remember there's many a lip
Betwixt the cup and the slip;
Brevity is the wit of soul,
So I will finish my strain,
And sing you the rest of my proverbs
Whenever you call again.