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Show The Rum Omelet. Farmer Hornihand: Hello, there! Well, if it hain't Si Smith! Blamed if I hardly knowed ye without yer whiskers. Si Smith: Ya'as, that's whut everybody every-body tells me. Ye see, I wouldn't a' shed 'em, only I was blamed fond o' rum omelets an' ordered one ev'ry time I come to town. Th' last time I tuck one I didn't notice th' feller lightin' th' ndatch, an' pretty soon th' blue blazes wus, up in my whiskers an' I had to jump inter a water bar'I t' put 'em out. My life insurance company got onto it, an' threatened t' cancel th' policy If I didn't either shed my whiskers or quit eatin' rum omelets, ome-lets, an' bad as I hated t' part with 'em I took my ch'ice.? Baltimore American. , . ;'; ' |