When a man ain't got a cent, an' he's feeling kind of blue,
An' the clouds hang dark and heavy, an' won't let the sunshine through,
It's a great thing, () my brethren, for a feller just to lay
His band upon your shoulder in a friendly sort of way.
It makes a man feel queerish, it make- the tear-drops start,
An' you -oil o' feel a flutter in the region of the heart.
You can't look up and meet his eyes, you don't know what lo say,
When his hand i- on your shoulder in a friendly sort of way.
O. (he world's a curious compound, with its honey and its gall.
With it> cares and bitter crosses, but a good world after all.
An' a good God must have made it—leastwise that is what I say,
When a hand is on your shoulder in a friendly sort of way.
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