“What Is Your Address?”
There is 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 hot or too cold, 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!
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 Grumbling Street. And never to growl whatever we do, Lest we be mistaken for Grumblers too.
By L. M. Montgomery
“The older we get, the fewer things there are that seem worth waiting in line for.”