OUR FRIENDS ACROSS THE STREET

When we're tired of reading essays, Tho they be a mental treat; When we're bored by social callers, Be they ever so elite; When we crave some relaxation Or the Foursome's incomplete, We S. O. S. or telephone To our Friends across the Street. When our larder needs renewing Or our ice succumbs to heat; When the signs of Drought are brewing 'Cause our "stock" is incomplete; And our chairs are insufficient When we have some guests to seat, Why, we just go out and borrow From our Friends across the Street. When we're worried or in trouble, And our projects meet defeat; When our prospects seem quite hopeless,— Life seems bitter that was sweet; When we lose our nerve and falter 'Cause the rough way wounds our feet, We can always find sweet comfort In our Friends across the Street. When we end, at last, our journey And the saintly Peter greet, Or descend to Realms Infernal Where the Goats, rejected, bleat, We would never feel contented, Whether mixed with Chaff or Wheat, If we couldn't be together With our Friends across the Street.