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Show MY TEARFUL TUNES. My tearful tunes and morbid verse The red erotics I rehearse A calmer judgment ne'er deplores. Though like a Lazarus my sored The tongues of critic curs absterse. Of all these mongrels none Is worse Than Aristarch, who doth asperse My pure poetics, while he scores My tearful tunes. He must have had a mangy nurse, Who did his puppy lips immerse In drivelled doggerel Art abhors, The vapid verses he adores Have made him competent to curse Ms tearful tunes. Louis A. Robertson in Town Talk. When Sir Thomas Lipton saw his picture (in H fire at Pain's he was like a big boy with a new B top,-but 'When he saw the portrait of the cup in fl golden- colors. his eyes bulged out and his fingers B twitched. fl A b(g audience was around him, and every H ono was cheering the beautiful pictures. Then M one of the merry band of Atlantic club men called H out cheerily : H "Sir Thomas, why don't you lift that cup?" H "Oh!" replied the Irish baronet with native M Avlt, "it's too hot." . BH |