I have a family notebook, containing the sort of songs my grandparents' generation used to sing round the piano in the days before TV or even radio, when people made their own entertainment. Copiously illustrated with delightful marginal sketches, it includes a couple of dozen verses of "The Anthem of the Ancient Order of Incorrigble Optimists, or, The Umbrella-Makers' Lament".

A selection:

Old Rastus he's gone balmy,
But he don't mean no harm,
He wears his bedsocks on his face
To keep his whiskers warm.

King Solomon had a thousand wives,
And that's the reason why
He always missed his workman's train
Through kissing them all goodbye.

The man stood on the railway track,
The engine gave a squeal,
The driver took an oily rag
And wiped him off the wheel.

Alas! Our Willie's gone to rest,
His face we'll see no more,
For what he thought was H2O
Was H2SO4.

I think you've all heard of Lot's wife,
No wonder Lot was cross,
For when he turned around, he saw
A tin of Cerebos.

Should a body find a bottle
Neatly labelled "Rye",
Don't it make a body sore
To find that bottle dry.

How doth the hopeful fisherman
His placid bait regard,
He reels his line off by the inch,
His lies off by the yard.

I rose and gave to her my seat,
I could not let her stand,
She looked just like my mother, with
That strap held in her hand.

Bill Higgins never would be passed,
He bragged his car's endurance,
He passed six cars with backward glance,
His wife has his insurance.

John Henpeck has one worry
To think of when he dies:
Will angel's robes have press-studs
Or merely hooks and eyes?

Don't blame poor little doggie,
It's not his fault at all;
Somebody left a wet umbrella
Standing in the hall.

I knew a little salesgirl,
I loved her in the fall,
And every time I kissed her,
She said "Will that be all?"