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Show ALICE lilK LID (By George F. Paul, In American Magazine.) I am the Road Hog, Alice. Oof, oof I I drink Gasoline instead of Buttermilk. Butter-milk. Climb up on the Fence, Alice, for I own tho Road. I have a Guarantee Deed to it recorded in the Route BookI carry it up my Sleeve. If you want to traverse the Highway In Peace, or even skirt it, Just hop along like a Bird on the Telephone Wire that's a current Practice. I have a Horn like a Fog Pene-trator. Pene-trator. When it doesn't work I let out a String of Yaps like a Hound on the Trail of a Coon with Fat on his Ribs. I am, as Willie Shakespeare so truly and feelingly say3, Sir Oracle, and when I ope my Lips let no God -forsaken Motorist cross my Path. Of course, I take more Delight in Muddy Roads all Hogs do, no Matter from what Part of the Country they come Hampshire, Berkshire, Poland or China. I have a Phiz that is unique large, healthy Ears a la Elephant, a Mouth of the Sacred Catfish Order, and Eyes like a genuino high-class Hog little, sharp, inquisitive. Tho Rest of my Body is normal, Alice, with tho Exeeption of my Feet they aro so deep in the Mud you'd never know but what I wore Number 9's. Now, skid along, Alice. You're stealing steal-ing my Oxygen. |