n
Who wore a crooked smile,
And built a crooked railroad
O'er many a crooked mile,
He got some crooked statesmen
To play his crooked games,
And they all got crooked titles
Before their crooked names.

* * * * *

Sing a song of sixpence,
Country going dry,
Four and twenty booze shops
Selling no more rye.

When the bars were open,
Whiskey had its fling,
Now we ride the water cart,
Along with George, our king.

Once dad, in the bar room,
Counted out his money,
Weary mother sat at home,
Patching clothes for sonny.

Now dad's in the garden
Wearing out his clothes,
Money in his pocket,
Bloom all off his nose.

=Miscellaneous=

BEDLAM

October, 1914

"The world is mad, my masters,"
The poet had the facts
To prove this sweeping statement,
In man's punk-headed acts;
For since the day when Adam
Partook of the wrong tree,
We've toiled, and slipped, and blundered;
"What fools these mortals be".

Take out your horse or auto,
And drive the country roads,
And see the fields and orchards
Bearing their precious loads.
Old Mother Earth produces
With lavish hand and free,
But half is lost or ruined
By man's stupidity.

Ten thousand tons of apples
Will surely go to waste
While poor folk in the cities
Will hardly get a taste.
We take good wheat and barley
And manufacture bums,
Whose wives and little children
Are starving in the slums.

The man that's poor as woodwork,
And nearly always broke,
Can somehow find a nickel
To puff away in smoke;
While those who have the money
To eat and drink their fills,
Are sure to over-do it,
And run up doctor bills.

If, when the times are peaceful
I kill one man, by heck!
They'll call it bloody murder,
And hang me by the neck.
In war-time he's a hero,
Who sends through air or sea
A bomb to blow a thousand
Into Eternity.

And so, dear gentle reader,
You see, by all the rules,
That earth's whole population
Except ourselves are fools.

THE CERTAINTIES

When icy blasts blow fierce and wild,
Cutting the face like steel,
And summer's heart is trodden down
'Neath winter's iron heel,
It's all a par