| Came a card marked Mason City
|
| From my forwarder
|
| Shut the door, don’t let my dad see;
|
| Read aloud dear sir:
|
| Understanding you account an upright gent-
|
| Lemen Aetna Life agreed and lent
|
| As agreed, my fee is 2.6 percent
|
| Write again the Riceville widow
|
| SASE
|
| I would guess they’ll be turned out though
|
| I’ll still make my plea:
|
| If the Dunlay heirs cannot be seen to care
|
| Then the Banker’s Trust will surely think it fair
|
| To not give extensions, as they musn’t dare
|
| Write Des Moines on several matters
|
| And I near anoint
|
| Ladle thick the pleasant flatters
|
| And then comes the point;
|
| Mr. Nelson wouldn’t like to hear it said
|
| As he’s too proud, so I do it in his stead:
|
| He shall need an extension--so it read
|
| --Take the Oregon Short Line to Salt Lake;
|
| Take the Pere Marquette, take the Michigan Central
|
| To West Madison for Christ’s sake
|
| Forgemen, Molders, Blacksmiths, Boilermakers
|
| None on the make
|
| Up for shade on Crumb Hill
|
| Get something to make my hands still
|
| But now--Wait
|
| How are you my nabs?
|
| Little tender footed crabs
|
| Meet my knuckle duster
|
| You geeched that gazoon’s gow
|
| Tried to break into the bow:
|
| Go wipe your nose
|
| I’m just hanging out with some noler knockums
|
| Just passing time waiting till my stack comes
|
| Prussian who got jackered
|
| My snapper till your knockered
|
| Get on the snam
|
| The chivman wants your chip;
|
| Better dummy up then go dip:
|
| You’re outta turn
|
| I learned that the lowest form of life is the buffer nabber
|
| Even worse than the dicer stabber |