Broadcasting on the Hooraydio.

So let's turn on the hooraydio and liberate a laughful lyric by Doctor D. Light, the eye-ear-and-knows specialist:

The sloth is glum, the walrus too,
They haven't had the chance, like you,
To differentiate between
Their lot and what it might have been.
We more enblightened sons of sin
With mental means above the chin,
Should pause before we “chew the rag,”
Because we deem we're “in the bag,”
And contemplate how Fortune terse
Could possibly have made it worse.
The cheerful chump who dodges Doom.
And daily gives the gate to Gloom,
Is not a flippant kind of flop
Deficient round about the top;
But one who sees the show compact

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And not a solitary act.
Thank God the cheerful cove is yet
Among us in our doubt and debt,
To make our sense of humour keener
When things appear not worth a “deener.”
Who wants to be a woozy whelk
Or else a frigid frozen elk?
Such samples never grieve their lot,
Because they never know “what's what,”
Or even get a ghostly gleam
That things are seldom what they seem.
But cheery chumps, with confidence
That living's worth the high expense,
Do more in half a brace of twists
Than hundreds of economists.
So here's hand to those who cheer
When things are looking kind of queer,
And though the grade is one in two
Keep chugging up towards the blue.
They never pause to whip the cat,
But climb their best when things are “flat.”