THE SONG OF THE MOUTH-ORGAN
I'm a humble little bit of tin and horn;
I'm a byword, I'm a plaything, I'm a jest; The virtuoso looks on me with scorn;
But there's times when I am better than thp
best. Ask the stoker and the sailor of the sea;
Ask the mucker and the hewer of the pine; Ask the herder of the plain, ask the gleaner of the grain—
There's a lowly, loving kingdom—and it's mine.