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Show The Old-Timer. B I'm weary of paint and powder, f? I'm weary of eyebrows and curls, (l And the buiy oubrett who ilnga Ioudn r. Than all of the rest of the girls. I My fancy turns to the past to dwell II On the lamia who used to recite I' The story they tell Of the curfew bell Forbidden to ring to-night. R I'm tired of the leading lady, L With the frown and the nlto voice, 1 Jn the past that's doacilbed ns shudr I No mora can my heart rejoloo. 1 To that curfew lassie the village pride I My memory once more Incline. It Who awoetly tried, And who almoit cried. -' Because she forgot her lines. No queen of the drama Is half so fair 1 As tho star of that night, in oooth: There Is none with such Bold In her wsuM 1 Ing- hair 1 And none with such artless youth. I And how I resent each ruthless year That curtains the soenos of oldl ! I'd pay right drur . 1 For a place to hear . . . The tale of the eurfiw oM Washington Star. - T . r ,. 'B |