One person has a thought which never departs,
that another also once might have had.
One gets up in sunshine and song,
be it drizzling, be it freezing.
The other gets up groaning,
scratching, smelling and bitching
be it Christmas or the rest of her life
The day's too long, too boring, not nice.
It's a sourness which never leaves her,
that gnaws on her soul, day and night. Who knows,
give up the affliction, she might be surprised.
One sister has milk,
the sad one has none.
You substitute for "milk"
the word that seems right
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