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Show TUB EVENINGS FAD By Edward A. Guest. Time was that when my day was done The evening was a time for rest, I puffed my pipe and watched tho sun In glory sinking in the West. I knew contentment that was real Not longer than two years ago, But now when finished is the meal She drags me to a picture show. No more the splendid hour of peace That once I knew I now possess, When all my daily struggles cease There is no balm of happiness Refreshing, cool, to soothe my brow, No restful hours that I may know, For when we've finished dinner now She drags me to a picture show. Each evening I must sit and see The widow's little baby die; Must gaze on acts of villainy; The soldiers put to death a spy, A dam destroyed by dynamite, Which brings from her a frightened "Oh!" And every other dreadful sight That constitute a picture show. I've gazed on Farnum's locks Until I wished that he were bald, I've seen the self-same pile of rocks By every mountain title called. I've seen him lick a dozen men In combat with a single blow, But after supper, once again She drags me to a picture show, ) Oh, for the nights that I once knew Before the picture craze began, When once his daily tasks were through There was no place to take a man; Then I could sit in real delight And watch the people come and go, But now I"l bet again tonight She'll drag me to a picture show. Detroit Free Press. |