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Show I Rippling I Rhymes j By WAJLT MASON THE Al io PERIIi. Let's rise, o footsore reuders. and fcim a union strong, to punish all thb speeders who rush their cars ulong: with terrors 'lre they fill us. they make us weak and pale, they try to malm or kill us, and grumble when they fall The streets are scenes of danger, where speeel laws won't stay put, and heaven help the Stranger who tries lo cross on loot! Some reckless, bdnehead driver will promptly climb his frame, and will not care stiver how manv more he'll malm h. every night 1 woneler. when 1 retire to bed. that I'm not torn asunder, that I still have my head. For all the day I'm dodging death cars propelled by fools, and when I reach my lodging the sweat drips down In pools. I count my legs and knuckles, my wishbones and inv hair, my garters and my trickles, to see if I'm nil there, and if tltcre'S nothing busied I feel that I'm In luck, for I've been chased, disgusted, disgust-ed, by auto, l ord and truck. It's surely sure-ly time to punish with mor than pal-irv pal-irv fines those reckless guys and Hun-nish Hun-nish who try to brenk our spines, who always look for chances to wing the pissing gent, anel fill the ambulances with victims, boneyard bent |