Poems by James Whitcomb Riley

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. Little Orphant Annie's come to our house to stay,

An' wash the cups an' saucers up, an' brush the crumbs away,

An' shoo the chickens off the porch, an' dust the hearth, an' sweep,

An' make the fire, an' bake the bread, an' earn her board-an'-keep;

An' all us other childern, when the supper-things is done,

We set around the kitchen fire an' has the mostest fun

A-list'nin' to the witch-tales 'at Annie tells about,

An' the Gobble-uns 'at gits you

I quarrel not with destiny,

But make the best of everything—

The best is good enough for me.

Leave discontent alone, and she

Will shut her mouth and let you sing.

I quarrel not with destiny.

I take some things, or let 'em be—

Good gold has always got the ring;