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DON’T BE SORROWFUL, DARLING.
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isn't more night than day! . . . ’Tis rain - y
al - ways find the May! . . . We have had our
ev - er He leads the way. . . . Aye, God of the
weath-er, my dar - ling, . . Time's waves, they heav - i - ly
May, my dar - ling, . . And our ros - es, long a -
night, my dar - ling— Of the night of death, so
run, . . . . . But tak - ing the year to -
go, . . . . . And the time of the year is
grim!. . . . . The gate that leads out of
