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Show TTTk tim ;T"""-"-"".""r-" fc.rTI.ri fcT.ViTTT j Rippling I RHymes B by V-.l ! 8 Alii, AlilKIi Tlie limes are punU, the prospeels yellow, conditions are ;t sliame; and each man roasts the other fellow and says he is to blame. I throw some dormlcks at my neighbor because he talks all day; ho sidesteps hard, productive pro-ductive labor, puts up no helpful hay. But when I say he is a traitor to useful use-ful industry, he says he knows one who i is greater, and shies a brick at me. While 1 sit writing up this drab aeo. my neighbor wots and weens, the country's pressing need is cabbage. and turnips and string beans. It I'd j get land, and grow upon it a crop ol i seedless prunes, 'twould help out more, than any sonnet, Ihan. any rippling tunes. Then he resumes his elocution, hands out the air that's hot, and says; we'll have- a revolution before we know what's what. Our lives would soon bo rich and mellow, the times be smooth as wax. if we could make- the j other fellow get down to Old Brass j Tacs. But when we urge him to get busyt, and go and earn the price, he' says! with nerve thai makos us dizzy, "Just take your own advice.' |