Song of the Bed.

There are songs of the sunshine, and songs of the sea,
There are dirges of sorrow and ballads of glee;
There are ditties in praise of the sky overhead,
But the song I shall sing is the song of the bed.
[Chorus.] Bed! Bed! Beautiful Bed!

Pull up the clothes till they cover your head!
Schemers may plot and philosophers plan,
But bed is the place for the practical man.
Let waves of dissension encircle our shore,
And zealous reformers assistance implore;
Let nations be shattered and rivers run red,
We'll dare every foe to remove us from bed!

When evening is come and the sun disappears,
The savage is torn with unnatural fears;
His slumber is broken with barbarous dread,
But we are secure in the refuge of bed.
[Chorus.] Bed! Bed! Beautiful Bed!

A halo of glory around thee is shed.
The zealots who scorn thee and wish thee away,
Repent their mistake at the close of the day.
The wise and the foolish, the weak and the strong,
Can never be happy without thee for long.
While praising the men who for liberty bled,
We'll remember the one who invented the bed!

Let us cherish our bed and be loath to arise,
And we shall be healthy and wealthy and wise.
Let us shout down the years till our season is sped:
Be loyal to duty and stick to your bed!
[Chorus.] Bed! Bed! Beautiful Bed!

No joy can supplant thee or rule in thy stead.
Though far I may wander this comfort I know—
My heart's in thy blankets wherever I go.
Without thee my end would be harder to tell
Than bacon and eggs in a modern hotel.
Sooner than lose thee I'd die and be dead!
I'll never desert thee, be—eautiful bed!

—D.J.D.