CONCERNING
Robinson Crusoe.

If he wanted to hunt, he could do so
Without a new license each fall.

If he wanted to rest, why, he rested—

If he wanted to rest, why, he rested—
No boss called him down good and hard
If he wanted to work, none protested
Because he had no union card.

There was no one to put him in durance
For his wife's alimony unpaid;
There was no one to talk life-insurance
Or to tax the poor shanty he'd made.

There was no one to make him keep tidy
And shave and dress up every day;
There was no one to stir up Man Friday
To strike for less work and more pay.

No doctor with ether could fill him
And cut out his fav rite insides;
There were n't 'steen methods to kill him—
Trains, trolleys, airships, or joy-rides.

None asked for his vote, lucky fellow!
No phonograph robbed him of rest;
None borrowed his home-made umbrella
That his pictures all show he possessed.

She-gossip nor he-busybody
Could hint he was apt to get "stewed;"
None filled his "wool" suit full of shoddy
Or put benzoate in his food.

There was no one to kick at the weather
And make him feel he was to blame
So, take the whole thing altogether,
Rob Crusoe was lucky, I claim!

Walter G. Doly.

A.M. GACKENBACH