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Show FAREWELL, ME LOVE, FAREWELL! By T. G. ! ' Again the summer passes, once again, The pressing agents, in a press invitatory, Suggest the season's simmer' is to wane, And then continue with the purport of their story; Which Is that Saltair is about to close, So you whose inclinations are aquatic, Must buy a ticket quick and hold your nose, And get your nerve, though it may be neurotic. Ah! Sad that with the coming of the moon Of harvest, that the trains will cease to rattle; Pathetic that tho lovers who woujd spoon, Defer the joy of being packed like cattle. No more may bathers find the souvenirs " That calmly float about in their vicinity; j" No longer will their gastronomic fears Assail them dining there with an affinity. Ah! Must we wait the weary winter through Till June shall come and roses blow beside her? Until we reach the beach, and Murder! Pugh! And smell the smell again and spy the spider? Now, Joseph, Summer's gone, and gone the bunk, And garnered are the golden gains of gleaners, So take your great big brother of the skunk, Be a good sport and send it to the cleaners. |