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Be the weather wet or dry. I snap my finger at the snow, And whistle at the rain; I've braved the storm for many a day, And can do so again." (_Chorus_.) "Crack, crack, goes my whip, I whistle and I sing, I sits upon my waggon, I'm as happy as a king. My horse is always willing; As for me, I'm never sad: There's none can lead a jollier life Than Jim, the carter lad." "My father was a carrier Many years ere I was born, And used to rise at daybreak And go his rounds each morn. He often took me with him, Especially in the spring. I loved to sit upon the cart And hear my father sing. Crack, crack, etc." "I never think of politics Or anything so great; I care not for their high-bred talk About the Church and State. I act aright to man and man, And that's what makes me glad; You'll find there beats an honest heart In Jim, the carter lad. Crack, crack, etc." "The girls, they all smile on me As I go driving past. My horse is such a beauty, And he jogs along so fast. We've travelled many a weary mile, And happy days have had; For none can lead a jollier life Than Jim, the carter lad. Crack, crack, etc." "So now I'll wish you all good night It's time I was away; For I know my horse will weary If I much longer stay. To see your smiling faces, It makes my heart quite glad. I hope you'll drink your kind applause To Jim, the carter lad. Crack, crack, etc." The village choirs do very well as long as their organist or vicar is not too ambitious in his choice of music. There is a fatal tendency in many places to do away with the old hymns, which every one has known from a boy, and substitute the very inferior modern ones now to be found in our books. This is the greatest mistake, if I may say so. A man is far more likely to sing, and feel deeply when he is singing, those simple words and notes he learnt long ago in the nursery at home. And there is nothing finer in the world than some of our old English hymns. I appeal to any readers who have known what it is to feel deeply; and few there are to whom this does not apply, if s
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