There's a family nobody likes to meet; They live,
it is said, on Complaining Street In the city of
Never-Are-Satisfied, The River of Discontent beside.
They growl at that and they growl at this; Whatever
comes, there is something amiss; And whether their
station be high or humble, They are all known by
the name of Grumble.
The weather is always too
hot or cold; Summer and winter alike they scold.
Nothing goes right with the folks you meet Down on
that gloomy Complaining Street.
They growl at
the rain and they growl at the sun; In fact, their
growling is never done. And if everything pleased
them, there isn't a doubt They'd growl that they'd
nothing to grumble about!
But the queerest thing
is that not one of the same Can be brought to acknowledge
his family name; For never a Grumbler will own that
he Is connected with it at all, you see.
The
worst thing is that if anyone stays Among them too
long, he will learn their ways; And before he dreams
of the terrible jumble He's adopted into the family
of Grumble.
And so it were wisest to keep our
feet From wandering into Complaining Street; And
never to growl, whatever we do, Lest we be mistaken
for Grumblers, too.
Let us learn to walk with
a smile and a song, No matter if things do sometimes
go wrong; And then, be our station high or humble,
We'll never belong to the family of Grumble!