64
Poems
Nor BRYAN nuther! I've been good
To that air boy, and proud of him!
But if he sasses me like that,
I'll lay the rod on with vim!
And I'll just make him understand
That GOLD is none too good for me!
SILVER may suit some other land,—
For this!—the best its got to be!
To that air boy, and proud of him!
But if he sasses me like that,
I'll lay the rod on with vim!
And I'll just make him understand
That GOLD is none too good for me!
SILVER may suit some other land,—
For this!—the best its got to be!
They talk as if we're bound to come
To sure destruction with a smash!
I guess they think I'm not to hum,
Nor near enough to hear the crash!
And after all is said and done,
I kinder think we needn't fear
That them Imperial bugs will come
And spoil our crops, while I am here.
To sure destruction with a smash!
I guess they think I'm not to hum,
Nor near enough to hear the crash!
And after all is said and done,
I kinder think we needn't fear
That them Imperial bugs will come
And spoil our crops, while I am here.
