There's a family nobody likes to meet;
They live, it is said, on Complaining Street
In the city of Never - Are - Satisfied,
The River of Discontent beside.
They growl at that and they growl at this;
Whatever comes, there is something amiss;
And whether their station be high or grumble,
They are all known by the name Grumble.
The weather comes, there is something amiss;
And whether their station be high or grumble,
They are all known by the name Grumble.
The weather is always too hot or too cold;
Summer and winter alike they scold.
Nothing goes right with the folks you meet,
Down on that gloomy Complaining Street.
They growl at the rain and they growl at the sun;
In fact, their growling is never undone.
And if everything pleased them, there isn't a doubt,
They'd growl that they had nothing to grumble about!
But the queerest thing is that not one of the same,
Can be brought to acknowledge his family name;
For never a Grumble will own that he
Is connected with it at all, you see.
The worst thing is that if anyone stays,
Among them too long, he will learn their ways;
And before he dreams of the terrible jumble,
He's adopted into the family of Grumble.
And so it were wisest to keep our feet
From wandering into Complaining Street;
And never to growl, whatever we do,
Lest we be mistaken for Grumblers, too.
Let us learn to walk with a smile and a song,
No matter if things do sometimes go wrong;
And then, be our station high or humble,
We'll never belong to the Family Grumble.