There’s a family nobody likes to meet,

They live, it is said, on Complaining Street

In the city of Never-are-Satisfied,

The river of Discontent beside.

They growl at that and they growl at this

Whatever comes there is something amiss;

And whether their station be high or humble;

They are known by the name of Grumble.

The weather is always too cold or hot,

Summer and winter alike they scold;

Nothing goes right with the folks you meet

Down on that gloomy Complaining Street

They growl at the rain and they growl at the sun,

In fact, their growling is never done.

And if everything pleased them, there isn’t a doubt

They’d growl that they’d nothing to grumble about!

But the queerest thing is that not one of the same

Can be brought to acknowledge his family name,

For never a Grumbler will own that he

Is connected with it at all, you see.

And the worst thing is that if anyone stays

Among them too long he will learn their ways,

And before he dreams of the terrible jumble

He’s adopted into the family of Grumble.

So it were wisest to keep our feet

From wandering into Complaining Street;

And never to growl, whatever we do           ,

Lest we be mistaken for Grumblers too.

Let us learn to walk with a smile and a song

No matter if things do sometimes go wrong,

And then, be our station high or humble

We’ll never belong to the family of Grumble!