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Cowboy Lyrics |
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THE PAPER MAN
(A Visit with the Handsome and Popular Editor of the Lariet Lyre)
He has a press he jerks by hand, An* Fridays he will take his stand, An' let a kid roll on the ink To grease the type, an' then he'll think It's time to take a smoke, by jing! An' then he'll stop an' leave the thing, An' grab a corn-cob from somewhere, An' with his feet up in the air, He'll say, "Well, boys, how's stock an'feed? A little snow is what we need—-Much sickness out your way these times? I hear Miss Jones weds Billy Grimes, I lets their write-up front page take, They sends me chunk o' weddin' cake. An' poor old Cribs he upped an' died— His 'bituary bucked an' pied— But then I sets it up agin, A-speakin* of the home he'll win, An' all the virtoos that he had, Fergettin' nothin* but the bad— You wants some papers? sure, you bet! Jes' help yourself, they's fresh an' wet-No, takin' money is a bribe— Unless you figgers to—subscribe— |
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