It's June Ag'In, An' In My Soul I Feel The Fillin' Joy That's Sure To Come This Time O' Year To Every Little Boy; For, Every June, The Sunday-Schools At Picnics May Be Seen, Where "Fields Beyont The Swellin' Floods Stand Dressed In Livin' Green"; Where Little Girls Are Skeered To Death With Spiders, Bugs, And Ants, An' Little Boys Get Grass-Stains On Their Go-To Meetin' Pants. It's June Ag'In, An' With It All What Happiness Is Mine - There'S Goin' To Be A Picnic, An' I'm Goin' To Jine! One Year I Jined The Baptists, An' Goodness! How It Rained! (But Grampa Says That That's The Way "Baptizo" Is Explained.) And Once I Jined The 'Piscopils An' Had A Heap O' Fun - But The Boss Of All The Picnics Was The Presbyteriun! They Had So Many Puddin'S, Sallids, Sandwidges, An' Pies, That A Feller Wisht His Stummick Was As Hungry As His Eyes! Oh, Yes, The Eatin' Presbyteriuns Give Yer Is So Fine That When They Have A Picnic, You Bet I'm Goin' To Jine! But At This Time The Methodists Have Special Claims On Me, For They're Goin' To Give A Picnic On The 21St, D. V.; Why Should A Liberal Universalist Like Me Object To Share The Joys Of Fellowship With Every Friendly Sect? However Het'Rodox Their Articles Of Faith Elsewise May Be, Their Doctrine Of Fried Chick'N Is A Savin' Grace To Me! So On The 21St Of June, The Weather Bein' Fine, They're Goin' To Give A Picnic, And I'm Goin' To Jine!