The Rock Island Argus and daily union. (Rock Island, Ill.) 1920-1923, 1920-07-26
4 WEEKEND REyERY.

WEEAsLNU he knxe
"Ho hum the poet yawned, another week
Has gone. The Joints Of Father Time do creak
With added age, belize = rusted hinge.
yet on he moves spite each rheumatic twfnge.
Though slow he seems the so-called human
race
Completes with him for but the nerest space"
I"I see,s he mused "the folks across the Rhine
Again have signed upon the dotted line;
The French. you see must have lot OF coal:
The Hun-to cleanse his sins-a chastened
soul;
And then to nullify his dire intent
He must at once decrease his armament"
The poet paused to light a cigaret.
'Ah me" he sighed 1.-The world is full Of fret;
The Polish people seem q trife sick
They've quaffed an overdose Of bolshevik.
Dear Comrade Trotzky, ertswhile socialist,
Who once rallied loudly 'gainst the mailed fist,
who once for cannon fodder wept his grief.
Has now become militarist chief!
The poet scratched 'medtative ear
The ways of men, said he. ARE very queer:
| To make the world safe for democracy
Men died like flies to smash autocracy;
The fourteen points, 'mongst divers other
| things,
Decreed the fall Of all despotic kings.
Yet here in our republic we, forsooth.
Do place crown upon the head of Ruth!
!, And he, true despot, with ne'er stated lust.
Doth ravage pitchers-trample them in dust!"
He paused to scratch Speculative match
sit seems to me- he said. someone must hatch
brand new scheme to set the world Alright
| For, though at peace it's in a sorry plight.
! Lloyd George. although he hasn't lost his pep.
Seems. for the moment, sadly out of sep;
He moves ahead, It's true, quite blithe and gay.
But Ireland always moves the other way.
Poor John Bull suffers for his fathers sins
The Sim Fem fervently doth bark his shins!"
The poet rubbed his nose II wonder when"
He said 1.-The railroad men will strike again
No doubt just round the corner it doth Turk
The men who mine the coal have just quit
work
Because, they claim, they cannot make the
grade
| Of H. c. L. when they're so underpaid.
No more can l wonder what he'd say
The boss--if l walked out on him some day?
Would he Immediately throw a fit?
All yes. he would; he'd say, Pm glad you
| quit!"
The poet stopped to button up his vest.
+, "Ah we'll" he breathed, thank God life's short
at best!
4 A bit of joy-and pain-a gasping breath
And then we keep our rendezvous with Death!
! How futile then will be mans cunning tricks
What then will matter peace and politics,
The CUFF of presidential candidates
Their false affections or their punic hates?
What matter then who ran or also ran
When we, reluctant greet the Ferryman?"
the poet paused to light another pill"
Then vicously attacked his helpless mill"
90 would l had he wrote, Just half-not all
The crust superb, the everlasting gall
BY which some folks know are blessed Tor
| y cursed, ~
Then in LIES race I'd not be last but first
For though at life seem to scott and sneer
I've got to live it. So, while am here
Id like to grab its purest golden JOY
Urmixed with quite SO much of base alloy
pThe poet sighed once more. Then he arose,
Pulled down his vest and loudly blew his nose;
IHestossed his cigaret upon the floor
Then threw his verses in the euspdor,
Picked up his hat and placed it on his dome
And then disconsolately plodded home.
ISN'T it odd how thing reminds one OF
another? We were just reminded we must take
our umbrella home by seeing the name of Mrs
North Storms in the Evansville Courier.
YOU may not suspect it but col conductors
igrow weary OF searching through piles Of "ex-
changes" for the elusive wheeze
THAT'S why we took refuge in rime today
r. E. MIG.
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