Fellowship
When
a feller hasn’t got a cent
And
is feelin’ kind of blue,
And
the clouds hang thick and dark
And
won’t let the sunshine thro’,
It’s
a great thing, oh my brethren,
For
a feller just to lay
His
hand upon your shoulder in a friendly sort o’ way.
It
makes a man feel queerish,
It
makes the tear-drops start.
And
you kind o’ feel a flutter
In
the region of your heart.
You
can’t look up and meet his eye,
You
don’t know what to say
When
a hand is on your shoulder in a friendly sort o’ way.
Oh
this world’s a curious compound
With
its honey and its gall;
Its
cares and bitter crosses,
But
a good world after all.
And
a good God must have made it,
Leastwise
what is what I say,
When a hand is on your shoulder in a friendly
sort o’ way.
Unknown
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