Zenas WittI was sixteen, and I had the most terrible dreams,And specks before my eyes, and nervous weakness.And I couldn’t remember the books I read,Like Frank Drummer who memorized page after page.And my back was weak, and I worried and worried,And I was embarrassed and stammered my lessons,And when I stood up to recite I’d forgetEverything that I had studied.Well, I saw Dr. Weese’s advertisement,And there I read everything in print,Just as if he had known me;And about the dreams which I couldn’t help.So I knew I was marked for an early grave.And I worried until I had a coughAnd then the dreams stopped.And then I slept the sleep without dreamsHere on the hill by the river.
I was sixteen, and I had the most terrible dreams,And specks before my eyes, and nervous weakness.And I couldn’t remember the books I read,Like Frank Drummer who memorized page after page.And my back was weak, and I worried and worried,And I was embarrassed and stammered my lessons,And when I stood up to recite I’d forgetEverything that I had studied.Well, I saw Dr. Weese’s advertisement,And there I read everything in print,Just as if he had known me;And about the dreams which I couldn’t help.So I knew I was marked for an early grave.And I worried until I had a coughAnd then the dreams stopped.And then I slept the sleep without dreamsHere on the hill by the river.