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rope Mame manned the ambulance and dragged him in, Massaged his lamps with fragrant drug store dope And coughed up loops of kindergarten chin; She sprang a come back, piped for the patrol, Then threw a glance that tommyhawked my soul. VIII I sometimes think that I am not so good, That there are foxier, warmer babes than I, That Fate has given me the calm go-by And my long suit is sawing mother's wood. Then would I duck from under if I could, Catch the hog special on the jump, and fly To some Goat Island planned by destiny For dubs and has-beens and that solemn brood. But spite of bug-wheels in my cocoa tree, The trade in lager beer is still a-humming, A schooner can be purchased for a V Or even grafted if you're fierce at bumming. My finish then less clearly do I see, For lo! I have another think a-coming. IX Last night I tumbled off the water cart-- It was a peacherino of a drunk; I put the cocktail market on the punk And tore up all the sidewalks from the start. The package that I carried was a tart That beat Vesuvius out for sizz and spunk, And when they put me in my little bunk You couldn't tell my jag and me apart. Oh! would I were the ice man for a space, Then might I cool this red-hot cocoanut, Corral the jim-jam bugs that madly race Around the eaves that from my forehead jut-- Or will a carpenter please come instead And build a picket fence around my head? X As one who with his landlord stands deuce high And blocks his board bill off with I O U's, Touching the barkeep lightly for his booze, Sidestepping when a creditor goes by, Soaking his mother's watch-chain on the sly, Haply his ticker, too, haply his shoes, Till Mr. Johnson comes to turn him loose And lift the mortgage from that poor cheap guy; So am I now small change in Mamie's scorn, A microbe's egg, or two-bits in a fog, A first cornet that cannot toot a horn, A Waterbury watch that's slipped a cog; For when her make-up's twisted to a frown, What can I but go 'way back and sit down? XI O scaly Mame to give me such a deal, To hand me such a bunch when I was true! You played me double and you knew it, too, Nor cared a wad of gum how I would feel. Can you not see that Murphy's handy spiel Is cheap balloon juice of a Blarney brew, A phonograph where all he has to do Is give
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