BYAN ANONYMOUS CONTRIBUTOR.
What ho, my
For faro would I sing you a songof today!
The hired man asks, "Where inhell's Dingleville?
And what'sGreiner's solaces-a Bible or pill?"
(Alas! I can't tell him-I wasn'there then,
But, Sires, do you heed me andtake it for fact,
The old place is changed like thehead of a tack
That's aimed at by woman, and
That even it's maker won't know itas such.
Man but proposes it's woman
The old harbor's gone. The newpier's where they fish from.
But the old swimming hole is noplace for a Christian.
There's snuggle'pups more than enough to go 'round.
(Hist!The Old Landmark already his sounded retreat,
And the editor works with his backto the Street!)
Our highways are plastered withsigns that foretell
That in so many miles there's acertain hotel;
And the fence corners roost adozen or more
Shouting thepraises of garage or store.
(There's one near thefactory--with tin on the back-
"Eat Crowor Stay Home"--or something like that.)
Aye, gaffers, the old town haschanged quite a bit.
The women wear"britches" that give one a fit.
The prices are higher than
And keep on a-climbing till thecrowd's started home.
(Labor Day ends it--they flockback pell-mell;