From Rude Rural Rhymes by Bob Adams, New York: The Macmillan Company; 1925; pp. 149-150.
THE STANDING BROAD GRIN
The leaves were down, the trees were bare,
Like my smooth crown bereft of hair.
My pen was poor, my ink was pale,
My muse was chilled by autumn’s gale,
And warned by brisk November’s breezes,
I’d shed long since my B. V. Deezes.
I sat beside the kitchen stove
And thought with rueful soul
How many Rural Rhymes it takes
To buy a ton of coal.
The shades of night were falling fast
When through the town some boy scouts passed,
Their banner bearing words like these,
“Smile a little wider, please.”
O friends for you and me, I wis,
A needed lesson lies in this,
And we might well adopt, I wot,
The motto which these lads have got.
I have a very homely mug
Which looks its worst when shut up snug,
But I am always at my best
With mouth spread out from east to west.
[150]
Why should I make my troubles known,
When other gents have got their own
And have no respite nor relief
From fifty-seven kinds of grief.
To all my gloom I’ve tied a can,
I’ll grin like Happy Hooligan.
No more shall worry keep me slim;
I’m waxing fat like Sunny Jim.
O join with me, this lesson seize,
And smile a little wider, please.