The Robesonian., 1918-08-22
A CHAPTER OF DELAYS
AND ACCIDENTS

ing excessively mean and hung on the
copy hook the following excruciating
effuslon. He said it was ala that
charming little song which goes
A pretty girl, summer night,
"A moon serenely mellow,
A fond caress, loving sigh,
A klss-and all is well-o.
1t halts considerable, he admits, but
then, it was about a "halting" trip,
true and unvarnished account, he
says, of trip to the mountains, on
winch trip there were delays and ac-
cldents, as shall appear if you havs
the courage to wade into what follows
A ferry with no ferryman,
Steep hill, no place to turn-o,,
we holler loudly as we can,
We Walt-nO time to burn-o.
At last he comes, the sonuvagun,
He's calm-we feel like slaughter,
For by his Stacker ways he made
Us lose an hour and a quarter.
The Pee Dee river then we cross,
Inc ferryman poles us over
w here do we go from here, we ask
We're lost, but do not know it.
Give miles you've come out of your
way"
The ferryman cheerily says it
We brain him, throw his carcass in
Pee Dee, and quickly beat it.
A tie-rod down, front wheel wild,
A road extremely rocky;
A buckin' motor-Charlott town
Garage extremely lucky.
The very next day, 9:20 a. M,
Same garage, car almost ready
Loose nut, the bloomin' fan flies off,
Knocks hole in radiator.
More wait, more tears, till 4 p. M,
At last we're on the way sir;
Black clouds, it cometh on to rain
Gee whiz, the road is slick sir!
The lightning plays on the bumper
Oh it's merry day, sir
But what care we tho the bears ".
see.
At last we're on our way, sir.
The blessed sun comes out at last,
We speed to make up time-o;
We stop, and change a tire-o.
Oh, on this trip it's plain to see,
We've naught to do but ride-o-
For this we came and so we're game
To doff dull care aside-o.
Same trip-the mountain heights
we've scaled
We're sailing in valley,
hill,
A car approaches madly.
The brakes applied, we stop stock still
And breathe a prayer for safety,
When in flash there comes crash
Great guns, but this is nasty!
Cars locked together-twiste1 iron
A windshield smashed to small bits
A woman's nose, a glass-cut CASH
The ladies in Mysteries.
A reckless girl-it was a shame!
She drove, modern Jehu-
A darn rough way to stop a car
Her cheWing-gum she still cheWed.
The ruined bumper-rods unlocked.
The journey we continued,
Glad that we had the luck to be
Still in this moral vineyard.
The very next town was Rutherford
ton
Sharp turn-we couldn't steer it
Into another car we bumped
By Jove! also plague-take it!
This is too long-so was our grief
Garage, around the corner,
To it we crept, no chance to carry
On until the morrow.
Another crimp in checkbook-we
Got homesick, home we started
A differential growled with glee-
No use to be downhearted.
This time garage four miles away
We 'phoned- they'd send a man out;
He could not fix the bloomin' thing
Just fourteen miles to Charlotte.
He patched it up-to Charlotte town
Same garage before we mentioned
Fixed the car, again sadly marred
A purse now quite depleted.
All things below must have an end
There's cen an end to trouble
Best town we saw on the whole trip
Was this same dear old Lumberton.
To it we came, and here's an end
To this 'scruciating effusion,
Which if you've read, and are mo-
dead
Shake. Don't shoot. We're through.