XIII.
I WISH somebody’d kick me through a fence;I must be gettin’ dotty; I’m so denseI couldn’t see half through an iron gate;Why, any one could string me while you wait;No wonder Morton says I’m shy of sense.A man arrived here yesterday forenoonWho seemed to be a fighter, and as soonAs ever I had spotted him I flewAnd grabbed his satchel and got useful. Say,His clo’s were great, he had on dimun’s, too—I picked him fer a winner right away.
I WISH somebody’d kick me through a fence;I must be gettin’ dotty; I’m so denseI couldn’t see half through an iron gate;Why, any one could string me while you wait;No wonder Morton says I’m shy of sense.A man arrived here yesterday forenoonWho seemed to be a fighter, and as soonAs ever I had spotted him I flewAnd grabbed his satchel and got useful. Say,His clo’s were great, he had on dimun’s, too—I picked him fer a winner right away.
I WISH somebody’d kick me through a fence;I must be gettin’ dotty; I’m so denseI couldn’t see half through an iron gate;Why, any one could string me while you wait;No wonder Morton says I’m shy of sense.A man arrived here yesterday forenoonWho seemed to be a fighter, and as soonAs ever I had spotted him I flewAnd grabbed his satchel and got useful. Say,His clo’s were great, he had on dimun’s, too—I picked him fer a winner right away.
I WISH somebody’d kick me through a fence;
I must be gettin’ dotty; I’m so dense
I couldn’t see half through an iron gate;
Why, any one could string me while you wait;
No wonder Morton says I’m shy of sense.
A man arrived here yesterday forenoon
Who seemed to be a fighter, and as soon
As ever I had spotted him I flew
And grabbed his satchel and got useful. Say,
His clo’s were great, he had on dimun’s, too—
I picked him fer a winner right away.
It wasn’t tips I thought of, understand:I hoped that mebby I could touch his hand;I brought him pens and ink and things and stoodAround to be as useful as I couldAnd let him see I thought that he was grand.I’d like to bump my head against a wall,Because he ain’t a pugilist at all.I’ll bet he never even seen a ring;He’s just an author that is writin’ books:That shows that you can never tell a thingAbout how great a man is by his looks.
It wasn’t tips I thought of, understand:I hoped that mebby I could touch his hand;I brought him pens and ink and things and stoodAround to be as useful as I couldAnd let him see I thought that he was grand.I’d like to bump my head against a wall,Because he ain’t a pugilist at all.I’ll bet he never even seen a ring;He’s just an author that is writin’ books:That shows that you can never tell a thingAbout how great a man is by his looks.
It wasn’t tips I thought of, understand:I hoped that mebby I could touch his hand;I brought him pens and ink and things and stoodAround to be as useful as I couldAnd let him see I thought that he was grand.I’d like to bump my head against a wall,Because he ain’t a pugilist at all.I’ll bet he never even seen a ring;He’s just an author that is writin’ books:That shows that you can never tell a thingAbout how great a man is by his looks.
It wasn’t tips I thought of, understand:
I hoped that mebby I could touch his hand;
I brought him pens and ink and things and stood
Around to be as useful as I could
And let him see I thought that he was grand.
I’d like to bump my head against a wall,
Because he ain’t a pugilist at all.
I’ll bet he never even seen a ring;
He’s just an author that is writin’ books:
That shows that you can never tell a thing
About how great a man is by his looks.