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And when at last you're forced to croak,
Your pelt will grace some lady's cloak,
And now farewell, my agile friend,
Our confab now has reached its end."

The squirrel that roams the forest shade,
The happiest creature, God e'er made,
For years and ages yet to come,
Will occupy its forest home.
The patient ox, whose faithful toil,
Has helped to cultivate the soil,
In this, our age that is so fast,
Is relegated to the past.
You'll search this country, round and round
Before an ox team can be found.
The patient ox was far too slow,
For this fast age, he had to go.
And then "old Dobbin" showed his face,
And took the snail-paced ox's place.
Again, the howling auto came
And put the Dobbins all to shame.
And now we're taking to the air,
We'll find all kinds of room up there,
And very soon, the time will come,
When we get tired of staying home.
We'll saunter to a ten cent store,
Purchase a pair of wings and soar.


We'll start at morn for France or Spain,
At evening, we'll be home again.
Now who can tell, or who portend
When this fast age will have an end.

Shan. T. Boy        

Who, when I'm sorry, makes me glad?
Who cheers me when I'm weary?
My prohibition friend's the lad,
I always keep him near me.

My prohibition friend and I,
Have jogged through life together
And oftentimes we have been dry,
In wet and rainy weather.

Together, we don't always pull.
To fight, he tries to tempt me.
He's always empty when I'm full
And full when I am empty.

With him I would be loth to part,
He's such a charming fellow.
He always tries to cheer my heart
And make me feel so "mellow".


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The Hodag and Other Tales of the Logging Camps, Written by Lake Shore Kearney
(Madison, WI: Democrat Printing Press, 1928) Original Text and Illustrations Public Domain License.
Copyright © 2006-2014 Thrill Land.