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James Whitcomb Riley - Song
Work rating: Low

"Why do I sing--Tra-la-la-la-la!
    Glad as a King?--Tra-la-la-la-la!
      Well, since you ask,--
      I have such a pleasant task,
    I can not help but sing!

    "Why do I smile--Tra-la-la-la-la!
    Working the while?--Tra-la-la-la-la!
      Work like this is play,--
      So I`m playing all the day--
    I can not help but smile!

    "So, If you please--Tra-la-la-la-la!
    Live at your ease!--Tra-la-la-la-la!
      You`ve only got to turn,
      And, you see, its bound to churn--
    I can not help but please!"

The farmer pondered and scratched his head,
  Reading over each mystic word.--
"Some o` the Dreamer`s work!" he said--
  "Ah, here`s more--and name and date
In his hand-write`!"--And the good man read,--
"`Patent applied for, July third,
  Eighteen hundred and forty-eight`!"
The fragment fell from his nerveless grasp--
His awed lips thrilled with the joyous gasp:
  "I see the p`int to the whole concern,--
  He`s studied out a patent churn!"
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