Show maik this man breathes there a man with a soul so dead who never to himself hath said my trade of late Is getting bad i ill try another muslin ad ada 9 if such there be go mark him well for him no bank account shall swell lo no 10 angels watch the golden stair to welcome home a millionaire the man who never asks for trade in local papers oft delayed cares more tor for rest than worldly gain and patronage but gives him pain tred lightly friends let no TULIP a sound disturb his solitude profound here let him live in calm repose unsought except by men ho he owes and when he dies go plant him deep that naught may break his dream less sleep where no rude clamor may dispel the quiet that he loves so well and that the world may know its loss place on his grave a wreath of moss and on a stone above here lies A chump who wouldn t advertise |