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Show Rippling' Rhymes Bj WAXT JdASON V J V Till LOA l Kv. I ply my lyre the whole day long.' j and h.ve since long ago, and uhlp out bales of deathless song at fifty I cents a throw. And If I faltered In I my leal, the sheriff would appear. and prOfltptlj place his large reil seal j on all my worldly icear And when my harp ftS smoking hot. Its cool-Ina: cool-Ina: sytm rlojred. to some calm park or kindred spot I oftentimes have jogged; nnd there tho loafers always! stt OH benches, day by day; they do 1 riot toll lh do not knit, they never strive for pay I see tho same old I musty groups by day. and after dark. barred out from all the city's coops, 1 their home Is in the park. They , seem to think there's nothing wrong. , they lurbl and they laugh. until ! some peeler comes alonjr and prods them with his staff. How doth the Beedy i little shirk still find cxlsten g nice, j when men who buckle down and I work can barely raise the price .' How doth the booty little bum contrive to ; stay on earth, when we must toll j and make thin hum. to rain our ;.'. rd ind berth? K is a mystery, j I wot. thsa need solution, mueh. and when rny alV cooked harp gets not, I : muse, to beat the Dutch. Copyright by Geore Matthew Adams oo |