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| THERE is a race from eld descent, | |
| Of heaven by earth in joyous mood, | |
| Before the world grew wise and bent | |
| In sad, decadent attitude. | |
| To these each waking is a birth | 5 |
| That makes them heir to all the earth, | |
| Singing, for pure abandoned mirth, | |
| Non nonny non, hey nonny no. | |
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| Perchance ye meet them in the mart, | |
| In fashion’s toil or folly’s throe, | 10 |
| And yet their souls are far apart | |
| Where primrose winds from uplands blow. | |
| At heart on oaten pipes they play | |
| Thro’ meadows green and gold with May, | |
| Affined to bird and brook and brae. | 15 |
| Sing nonny non, hey nonny no. | |
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| Their gage they win in fame’s despite, | |
| While lyric alms to life they fling,— | |
| Children of laughter, sons of light, | |
| With equal heart to starve or sing. | 20 |
| Counting no human creature vile, | |
| They find the good old world worth while; | |
| Care cannot rob them of a smile. | |
| Sing nonny non, hey nonny no. | |
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| For creed, the up-reach of a spire, | 25 |
| An arching elm-tree’s leafy spread, | |
| A song that lifts the spirit higher | |
| To star or sunshine overhead. | |
| Misfortune they but deem God’s jest | |
| To prove His children at their best, | 30 |
| Who, dauntless, rise to His attest. | |
| Sing nonny non, hey nonny no. | |
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| Successful ones will brush these by, | |
| Calling them failure as they pass. | |
| What reck they this who claim the sky | 35 |
| For roof, for bed the cosmic grass! | |
| When, failures all, we come to lie, | |
| The grass betwixt us and the sky, | |
| The gift of gladness will not die! | |
| Sing nonny non, hey nonny no. | 40 |
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