Just Whistle A Bit, If The Day Be Dark, And The Sky Be Overcast: If Mute Be The Voice Of The Piping Lark, Why, Pipe Your Own Small Blast. And It's Wonderful How O'Er The Gray Sky-Track The Truant Warbler Comes Stealing Back. But Why Need He Come? For Your Soul'S At Rest, And The Song In The Heart,--Ah, That Is Best. Just Whistle A Bit, If The Night Be Drear And The Stars Refuse To Shine: And A Gleam That Mocks The Starlight Clear Within You Glows Benign. Till The Dearth Of Light In The Glooming Skies Is Lost To The Sight Of Your Soul-Lit Eyes. What Matters The Absence Of Moon Or Star? The Light Within Is The Best By Far. Just Whistle A Bit, If There 'S Work To Do, With The Mind Or In The Soil. And Your Note Will Turn Out A Talisman True To Exorcise Grim Toil. It Will Lighten Your Burden And Make You Feel That There 'S Nothing Like Work As A Sauce For A Meal. And With Song In Your Heart And The Meal In--Its Place, There 'll Be Joy In Your Bosom And Light In Your Face. Just Whistle A Bit, If Your Heart Be Sore; 'Tis A Wonderful Balm For Pain. Just Pipe Some Old Melody O'Er And O'Er Till It Soothes Like Summer Rain. And Perhaps 'T Would Be Best In A Later Day, When Death Comes Stalking Down The Way, To Knock At Your Bosom And See If You 're Fit, Then, As You Wait Calmly, Just Whistle A Bit.