Show THE CHRONIC CHRONic PRODIGAL I Puck The prodigal son returned one day From the whirl to the fields of hay ha haHe He was haggard and worn he had aged 10 years ears Since he fled from the care of ot the hogs hogsand hogsand hogsand and But his clothes were cut in the latest style And he looked at things with a a bored bor d hard smile When hen the neighbors said Hes come I home to die He drawled I came home to sleep why h Next morning he gazed with a gleeful laugh At his hla day da who was chasing the fatted calf calt Oh let him alone cried this wayward son He seems to have trained for the two twomile twomile twomile mile run run Just rust pick me a salad I dont like veal eal I never neer was Wa strong for a country meal mealAnd mealAnd mealAnd And a couple of ot chops ops and some coffee cortee dad Thus ordered the prodigal faced lad He stayed a month and he slept a lot lot In the open air on the spare room cot And his cheeks filled out with a ruddy hue In the days da s and the twilight dew Then the city called and his day du said Jack rack When ye e git pit wore out ye e kin come right back And they saw him leave them without a tear For they the knew hed return like that next year ear |