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Show 1 1 Walt Mason i DECEMBER Deccmher winds are hlowini;. and wearily wear-ily I'm goins down to the wallinK place, i the wintry clouds are fllng the old gray year la dying. It finishes its race The. old white year la falling and bitter t-'ilidil are walling its dlrues as they pass, the, fact they Keep repeating amid the fren-i zled sleeting thai J ears, like flesh, are grass. Kach year, when a beclnner. Is sure to be a winner, that truth is ufl-derstood ufl-derstood and all the bells ur ringing and all the choirs arc singing thk.r troph- odes for good The new year seems a treasure, with promises of pleasure and , happiness we've lost; bul when with age I It totters, we swat II with our sw.Uter.s. and av It was a frost. And now In drat., December but few of us remember how , coofl the new tar seemed Its guarantees were thrilling, it promised the fulfilling of all the dreams wo dreamed Iccem-ber Iccem-ber always sees us so tired that naugut. will please us a u.u. '-r:- wherein to trv fresh measures for profits and for pleasures, to spend and profiteer Old year, so sad and sicjcly. get out ani do It nulckly -ou've bung around too long' Old Jaws are always creatine anfl musty maxims speaking we like the young and stiong. |