Rhymes of a Rolling Stone/To Sunnydale

by Robert W. Service

To Sunnydale

There lies the trail to Sunnydale,Amid the lure of laughter.Oh, how can we unhappy beBeneath its leafy rafter!Each perfect hour is like a flower,Each day is like a posy.How can you say the skies are grey?You’re wrong, my friend, they’re rosy.

With right good will let’s climb the hill,And leave behind all sorrow.Oh, we’ll be gay! a bright to-dayWill make a bright to-morrow.Oh, we’ll be strong! the way is longThat never has a turning;The hill is high, but there’s the sky,And how the West is burning!

And if through chance of circumstanceWe have to go bare-foot, sir,We’ll not repine — a friend of mineHas got no feet to boot, sir.This Happiness a habit is,And Life is what we make it:See! there’s the trail to Sunnydale!Up, friend! and let us take it.