Sequachee Valley news. (Sequachee [Sequatchie], Tenn.) 1896-1952, 1915-07-15
STAND THE SCENT. son.

-.H
The south Pittsburg Hustler re
lapses'' into poetry. When the Hust
Ter does this, there is something DONG
Messrs. Milton, Byron, Tennyson'
Longfellow, Whittier, ct eetera, take
to the woods when they see the Hust-
Ter editor coming, balancing a rhyme
upon each hand and wondering what
in thunder 1t means.
Last week he paid his respects to
one of the News force and after ex-
essive cogitation, mingled prooaoiy
with equally as excessive potations'
Re mauaged to develop the following
which is sui geneIis, and hereby repro
ducel in all its Immortality:
"OLD BILL HILL.
Tune of Turkey in the Straw.
Old Will Hill of the Sequachee News
Acting like a man tanked up on BOOZE
With all to gain AID nothing to lose
Rappe(l on the floor with his brogan
shoes ~.
He claims that ye editor like an Gin
sane man"
"Howled" and shouted and waveu DIS
hand. -.
But you'll excuse us mister and don't
get mad
For you look like something what tue
buzzards had. ="
1t is whispered around that When
the South Pittsbuig man got thru
Composing this ditty, he had TO
have a cake of ice to his head and not
bricks to his feet A peculiar noise
heard in the direction of South Pitts
burg, and thought to be an exhausted
automobile on the Dixie Highway, is
now believed to have been the South
Pittsburg man concocting rhymes ror
his method of writing poetry is to put
two words that rhyme down on big
piece of paper and then try to concoct
lines to match 'em.
With lines to match EN-
He tries to hatch 'em.
AS does the humble hen,
With thought to catch EN-,
And rhymes to patch EN-,
SO eager flows his pen
The above is not verse, SO the editor
of the Hustler will please not critioise.
It is only written endeavoring to
catch up with the beauty of his I'M
mortal lines. an impossible task.
But-as the frog eating French say,
yeyenons nous mo,ttons, although 1T
would indicate that they like lamb
chops, - it is not the fault of Bill Hill,
of the News staff, that he is growing
old. He positively can't help that.
He can't put damper on Father
Times efforts to down him. We will
wager a Hot Cross bun against Wen
ma sausage, that the South Pittsburg
man is in the same predicament. He
can howl all he wants to at We, Us q
Co. getting old, but Father Time is
also getting in bis work on him, and
while right now he may have the
beautifully fat cheeks of an Apollo
Belvidere, later on he will have the
grey hairs, the snaggle teeth. the dim
ewes, the hollow cheeks, the bent
shoulders, the halting step, the slob-
bering mouth, the palsied hand, the
scanty breath. the tottering knees, the
general decrepitude that his adjective
"old" would seem to indicate that old
Bill Hill of the News has. Some of
these DAYS he will be afflicted the same
way, and then we assuredly will not
cry it to the house tops against him.
Son, it is no disgrace to grow old,
although you in your fledgling period
may think so. Every minute either OF
us breathes is one less on this earth,
We would be glad to not get old If we
could. We would much rather remain
as pi city as the picture of the South
Pittsburg editor with his coy lips
pursed in charming pride, and
sheer in his beautiful eyes at the dar-
ing of old age in combating a meas
ure that is neither desired nor best for
the people. And if we are so near a
corpse as the last line of his sublime
poem would indicate. "look like
something what the buzzards had, "
you will find US the liveliest corpse
In this graveyard, able to sit upon
our tombstone any day and talk OF
write against this bond issue. OF
course you in your dainty youth should
| not desire to converse with carrion,
but of course you can apply your col
ogne- scented handkerchief to your del
| ;cate nroboscis. and stand the aroma.