The Bright Side

Oh, one gets used to everything!      I hum a merry song,      And up the street and round the square      I wheel my chair along;      For look you, how my chest is sound      And how my arms are strong!      Oh, one gets used to anything!      It's awkward at the first,      And jolting o'er the cobbles gives      A man a grievous thirst;      But of all ills that one must bear      That's surely not the worst.      For there's the cafe open wide,      And there they set me up;      And there I smoke my caporal      Above my cider cup;      And play manille a while before      I hurry home to sup.      At home the wife is waiting me      With smiles and pigeon-pie;      And little Zi-Zi claps her hands      With laughter loud and high;      And if there's cause to growl, I fail      To see the reason why.      And all the evening by the lamp      I read some tale of crime,      Or play my old accordion      With Marie keeping time,      Until we hear the hour of ten      From out the steeple chime.      Then in the morning bright and soon,      No moment do I lose;      Within my little cobbler's shop      To gain the silver sous      (Good luck one has no need of legs      To make a pair of shoes).      And every Sunday - oh, it's then      I am the happy man;      They wheel me to the river-side,      And there with rod and can      I sit and fish and catch a dish      Of goujons for the pan.      Aye, one gets used to everything,      And doesn't seem to mind;      Maybe I'm happier than most      Of my two-legged kind;      For look you at the darkest cloud,      Lo! how it's silver-lined.