Not a word of bemoaning his task I hear, He has scarcely the time for a growl, I know, For his whistle is sounding bright and clear, He must find some pleasure in every row.—Cho. O, but then while you whistle be sure you hoe, Yes, for if you are idle the briers will spread; And whistle alone to the end of the row, May do for the weeds, but is bad for bread.

Cheer, Boys, Cheer. (Pat's Pick, page 14; Franklin Square No. 2, page 88.) 1 Flat. Cheer, boys, cheer I no more of idle sorrow; Courage, true hearts shall bear us on our way. Hope points before and shows the light tomorrow; Let us forget the darkness of today. Farewell, our school days, much as we may love thee; We'll dry the tears that we have shed before; Why should we weep to sail in search of fortune? So farewell our school days, farewell for evermore. Cheer, boys, cheer! the steady breeze is blowing: Floating us freely o'er the ocean's breast; Thousands shall follow in the track we're going, For the star of empire glitters in the west. Here we had toil and little to reward us, But there shall plenty smile upon our pain, And ours shall be the prairie and the forest, And grand, boundless meadows all ripe with golden grain.