SOMEHOW OR OTHER.
The good wife bustled about the house,Her face still bright with a pleasant smile,As broken snatches of happy songStrengthened her heart and hand the while.The good man sat in the chimney-nook,His little clay pipe within his lips,And all he’d made, and all he’d lost,Ready and clear on his finger-tips.“Good wife, I’ve just been thinking a bit:Nothing has done very well this year;Money is bound to be hard to get;Every thing’s bound to be very dear;How the cattle are going to be fed,How we’re to keep the boys at school,Is kind of a debit and credit sumI can’t make balance by any rule.”She turned her round from the baking bread,And she faced him with a cheerful laugh;“Why, husband, dear, one would thinkThat the good rich wheat was only chaff.And what if the wheat was only chaff,As long as we both are well and strong?I’m not a woman to worry a bit,—Somehow or other we get along.Into some lives some rain must fall,Over all lands the storm must beat;But when the rain and storm are o’er,The after sunshine is twice as sweet.Through every strait we have found a road,In every grief we’ve found a song;We’ve had to bear, and had to wait,—But somehow or other we get along.For thirty years we have loved each other,Stood by each other whatever befell;Six boys have called us father and mother,And all of them living and doing well.We owe no man a penny, my dear,We’re both of us loving, well, and strong:Good man, I wish you would smoke again,And think how well we’ve got along.”He filled his pipe with a pleasant laugh;He kissed his wife with a tender pride;He said, “I’ll do as you tell me, love;I’ll just count up on the other side.”She left him then with his better thought,And lifted her work with a low, sweet song,—A song that followed me many a year:“Somehow or other we get along.”
The good wife bustled about the house,Her face still bright with a pleasant smile,As broken snatches of happy songStrengthened her heart and hand the while.The good man sat in the chimney-nook,His little clay pipe within his lips,And all he’d made, and all he’d lost,Ready and clear on his finger-tips.“Good wife, I’ve just been thinking a bit:Nothing has done very well this year;Money is bound to be hard to get;Every thing’s bound to be very dear;How the cattle are going to be fed,How we’re to keep the boys at school,Is kind of a debit and credit sumI can’t make balance by any rule.”She turned her round from the baking bread,And she faced him with a cheerful laugh;“Why, husband, dear, one would thinkThat the good rich wheat was only chaff.And what if the wheat was only chaff,As long as we both are well and strong?I’m not a woman to worry a bit,—Somehow or other we get along.Into some lives some rain must fall,Over all lands the storm must beat;But when the rain and storm are o’er,The after sunshine is twice as sweet.Through every strait we have found a road,In every grief we’ve found a song;We’ve had to bear, and had to wait,—But somehow or other we get along.For thirty years we have loved each other,Stood by each other whatever befell;Six boys have called us father and mother,And all of them living and doing well.We owe no man a penny, my dear,We’re both of us loving, well, and strong:Good man, I wish you would smoke again,And think how well we’ve got along.”He filled his pipe with a pleasant laugh;He kissed his wife with a tender pride;He said, “I’ll do as you tell me, love;I’ll just count up on the other side.”She left him then with his better thought,And lifted her work with a low, sweet song,—A song that followed me many a year:“Somehow or other we get along.”
The good wife bustled about the house,Her face still bright with a pleasant smile,As broken snatches of happy songStrengthened her heart and hand the while.The good man sat in the chimney-nook,His little clay pipe within his lips,And all he’d made, and all he’d lost,Ready and clear on his finger-tips.
“Good wife, I’ve just been thinking a bit:Nothing has done very well this year;Money is bound to be hard to get;Every thing’s bound to be very dear;How the cattle are going to be fed,How we’re to keep the boys at school,Is kind of a debit and credit sumI can’t make balance by any rule.”
She turned her round from the baking bread,And she faced him with a cheerful laugh;“Why, husband, dear, one would thinkThat the good rich wheat was only chaff.And what if the wheat was only chaff,As long as we both are well and strong?I’m not a woman to worry a bit,—Somehow or other we get along.
Into some lives some rain must fall,Over all lands the storm must beat;But when the rain and storm are o’er,The after sunshine is twice as sweet.Through every strait we have found a road,In every grief we’ve found a song;We’ve had to bear, and had to wait,—But somehow or other we get along.
For thirty years we have loved each other,Stood by each other whatever befell;Six boys have called us father and mother,And all of them living and doing well.We owe no man a penny, my dear,We’re both of us loving, well, and strong:Good man, I wish you would smoke again,And think how well we’ve got along.”
He filled his pipe with a pleasant laugh;He kissed his wife with a tender pride;He said, “I’ll do as you tell me, love;I’ll just count up on the other side.”She left him then with his better thought,And lifted her work with a low, sweet song,—A song that followed me many a year:“Somehow or other we get along.”