There’s little cheerful left to say.
There’s little joy inside of me.
I wish that I could go away.
I had joy when I woke today,
but since death took its costly fee
there’s little cheerful left say.
I feel as if I ought to stay,
but when he’s carried in front of me
I wish that I could go away.
He’s sought the brighter heavenly way,
and in his haste left suddenly.
There’s little cheerful left say.
I know it’s good it worked this way.
Still though I know his soul is free
I wish that I could go away.
But now he’s finally gone away
we think of how things used to be.
There is a little cheerful left to say.
I wish they wouldn’t go away.
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