Morris tribune., 1910-02-04
FOR FEBRUARY
Copyright 1909 By Oh. RIETH0

Their captors had planned
When they got them in hand
To dash for the nearest
Tall cut in the land,
And there in the trees
To desert them to freeze
And to die of starvation
And grief, if you please.
And when they we're dead
The robins SO red
Were to cover them up
From the foot to the head
With leaves of the wood,
And to sing when they could,
"Poor babes in the forest,
Now will they be good?"
But look far and wide,
Never forest was spied,
Nor any place left
Where the babes might have died;
For the forests of yore
They would never see more,
And they heartily wished
They had saved three or four.
Which occasioned halt,
And with verbal assault
They openly said
1t was Ballinger's fault;
So they cussed him some more,
And they bitterly swore,
And the babes were put back
Just as good as before.
But that's enough of Ballinger, Or
for him or forninst; the grounding
will awake again upon the I'd inst.
He'll pinch himself time Or two, roll
over on his bed, engagein calisthenics
till he's sure he isn't dead, recall the
days significance with never falling
humor, and come out to compare his
girth with that of the consumer.
And side by side before his hole
these two will reminisce, and each
will teach the other what his weight,
if any, is. They'll feel of one an
others ribs, tell stories, laugh and
prattle, Jump up and down to see
whose bones will make the drier rat
tie, and then, with standing back to
back and no small bit of JUNCTION,
they'll ascertain if they can throw a
shadow in conjunction.
The which the country will await
with trembling and misgiving, for if
they can, Wen have to think of how
20 keep on living another 80 days and
nights, frostbit and tempest shaken,
and paying an admission fee to see a
piece of bacon.
But let us all be treasured
And have the heart to sing:
We don't believe dozen such
Gould hope to show thing;
Or forty of them half and half
In solid phalanx there,
Unless they counted One two three,
And filed themselves with air.
Our Mr.. Taft should be ashamed to
be so fat and sleek with everything so
high we can't eat meat but once week.
He ought to be too big a man in other
ways than his to keep so buxom when
he sees how thin the country is. A
sympthetic president in such time of
best would ask for nothing but to take
pot luck with all the rest. He'd eat
his hard and simple crust, his prunes
and batter cake, and join the country
in the stand we've taken as to steak.
1t does seem like hard
for one in such place to feed him
self on terrapin and set us such a
pace He ought to live on hominy
and grow so thin and gaunt that any
one with seeing him would think he
was in want. It would become him
very well to say, 81 live on RICE"
and prove it when he wrapped his
coat around his body twice. We'd all
stand up and honor him, alike with us
bereft, and cheer him with what little
strength the most of us have left.
st. Valentine will open up
His moving picture show
And run nickleodeon
For seven days or so.
He'll show US Algernon the Dude,
And Little Wit the Ounce,
And bore us terribly again
With those unwilling stunts.
And maybe this time we shall rise,
AS we should do, by gum,
And put this whole Internal brand
Of humor on the bum.
We never did know what it meant,
if anything at all, or who it was that
started it, or why we had to fall for
such custom. Oft we think the way
that we behave must make the good
St. Valentine turn over in his grave.
It is a shame to break his sleep, which
else were quite serene, and keep him