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Newspaper Page Text
The fld Game ,
Oh, yes, I had quit it "forever."
The scissors and paste and all
The haste and the frantic en
deavor, The typewriters' merry rat-tat.
I tired of the holler for "copy,"
I longed for a life that was
And my friends called me shabby
So I dropped from the News-,
But something kept whispering,
You're out of your element
This sinecure's meant for some
Who don't know a scpop from
This joint is too tied by decorum,
This routine is always the
Your clothes don't wear out
where you wore 'em
When playing the Newspaper
Whenever the ' newsboys would
Whenever the extras came out,
I tugged at my unsweated collar
And my heart-strings .were
tugged by a doubt.
Till at last well, I doubted no
I passed up my cinch, and I
To the call that I knew was the
And I plunged in the News
The typewriters rattled io greet
The smell of sour paste-pots
fl found the old "mill" there to
I dropped in my battered old
The news room was dingy a4id
But a shiver of joy shook my
For I'd quit the "good job" that'
And was back to the News
Below were the hnotypes click
ing. And the smell of hot lead came
The sport man was nervously
The ash from his "cigarootee."
My typewriter acted unruly,