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Show I Ripp ling' Rhymes I j By WALT MASON. Tired of It I've grown so tired of striking that tH work looks good to me; though I've had little liking, of late, for industry. The war got me unsettled, unfit for jH honest toil, and, like a palfrey met-tied, met-tied, I reared and pawed the soil. I called on men and brothers to come !and strike with me, and set their dads jH nnd mothers from tyrants' shackles free. And all tho boys responded, and quit their useful tasks, grow whla-kers whla-kers many-fronded, and yawped from kegs and casks. Like me, they called on workers to throw their handsaws y down, and join the ranks of shirkers jH who thronged the idle town. And so V'H our graft kept spreading, and rnn us all in debt, and very few were tread-ing tread-ing tho paths where tollers sweat. I sat, with other bumpkins, around tho Dluo Front store, and no one grew two pumpkins where but one grow before. And no one plowed a furrow, or made an anvil ring, or came out ,BB from his burrow, to laugh and danco I fi) and sing. But all were talking sor- LP row, and pessimism black, and swear- fi ing that tomorrow would see our bul- warks crack. And now I'm tired of M striking, I need some iron men, and ' gladly I'd go hiking to make things n hum again. II nn 1 |