Poems for Pale People Part 5

SPRIG HAS CUB.

Sprig, Sprig--Oh lovely Sprig!

Oh, hast thou cub to stay?

Add wilt the little birdies sig Throughout the livelog day?

What bessage dost thou brig to be, Fair Lady of by dreabs-- Dost whisper of the babblig brook Ad fis.h.i.+g poles ad streabs?

Those happy days have cub agaid, The sweetest of the year, Whed bad cad raise ad appet.i.te Ad wholesub thirst for beer.

I've often thought id wudder, Sprig, Of how the lily grows, But the thig that's botherig be dow Is how to sprig dew clothes.

Sprig, Sprig--Oh lovely Sprig!

By thoughts are all of you I saw a robid yesterday-- How strange it seebs--ad dew!

I've got a dreadful cold, Fair Sprig, Or else I'd sig to thee Ad air frob Beddelssohd, perhaps, Or "The Shade of the Old Apple Tree."

THE HOT WEATHER FIEND.

Ah, somewhere in another world There is a warmer spot, Where the fire is burning always.

And always it is hot; And always fiends are shouting, And always flames are blue, And always Satan's asking: "IS IT HOT ENOUGH FOR YOU?"

WHEN THE LID WAS ON.

They were seated there in silence Each one busy with a frown, It was midnight in the city, And the lid was on the town.

They had all been playing poker 'Mid the rattle of the c.h.i.n.k, When a gloom fell o'er the party, For they couldn't buy a drink, But a little fellow whispered As he held a poker hand, "Can't we get as drunk on water As we can upon the land?"

Then we kicked the little rascal, And we spoke without a frown, And we anch.o.r.ed safe in harbor When the lid was on the town.

THE DOODLE BUG.

Why that's a doodle bug, my child Who lives alone, remote and wild.

His domicile's a hole in the ground And when at home he's easily found.

The only plan allowed by law Is to lure him forth upon a straw, For the doodle bug is a misanthrope And otherwise is sure to elope.

GRIT.

I hate the fellow who sits around And knocks the livelong day-- Who tells of the work he might have done; If things had come his way.

But I love the fellow who pushes ahead And smiles at his work or play-- You can wager when things do come around, They will come his way--and stay.

THE NEXT MORNING.

What a difference in the morning When you try to raise your head; When your eyelids seem so heavy You could swear they were of lead; When your tongue is thickly coated And you have an awful thirst; When you drink so much cold water That you feel about to burst; When you lift your hand towards heaven And solemnly do say: "I'm going to 'cut out' drinking And I'll swear off right to-day."

A WONDERFUL FEAT.

I never walk along the street Because I haven't any feet; Nor is this strange when I repeat That I am but a garden beet.

APRIL FOOL.

'Twas on the f-f-f-first of April D-D-Day, W-w-w-when Nature s-s-smiled and all w-w-was gay, And I--w-w-why I was in a w-w-whirl, 'C-c-cause I w-w-was w-w-walking w-w-with my g-g-girl.

We w-w-wandered through a leafless w-w-wood W-w-where many giant oak-t-t-trees s-s-stood, And p-p-paused beside a d-d-dark g-g-green pool And sat d-d-down on a rustic s-s-stool.

T-t-then out I s-s-spoke in accents b-b-bold, And all m-m-my l-love for her I t-t-told.

She answered w-w-with a sweet, s-s-hy g-g-glance That pierced m-m-my h-h-heart like C-C-Cupid's l-lance.

I seized her in a t-t-tight embrace, And s-s-showered k-k-kisses on her f-f-face, And t-t-told her that I'd g-g-give my l-life If she would only b-b-be my w-w-wife.

"Please k-k-keep your l-l-life," the m-m-maid replied "F-f-for I w-w-will gladly b-b-be your b-b-bride, And y-y-you" she s-s-said, in t-t-tones quite c-c-cool, "W-w-why you c-c-can b-b-be my April F-F-Fool."

BRUTAL MARY.

Mary had a little lamb, The lamb was always b.u.t.tin'

So Mary killed the little lamb And turned him into mutton.