THE FELLER WHO'S ALWAYS IN HASTE
By Berton Braley and . Campbell Cory.
A00
He rushes to rise,
He rushes to shave,
To breakfast he flies,
Haste makes him a slave,
He rushes to work
And then rushes through,
He rushes each clerk
As a hustler" will do.
He claps on his. hat
And rushes to luneh,
With no time to chat
With the rest of the bunch;
He frets at delay,
A wait makes him fight,
He rushes all day
and he rushes-at night!
He rushes his wife,
He rushes the kids,
He rushes through life
Like a motor that skids,
His power he gives
To rushing ahead.
He'll rush while he lives
And he'll rush when he's dead!
The Mistress Why, I gave
you a pound of walnuts to crack.
There are hardly any here. Where
are the rest? The Cook Lor',
mum, the others was so big I
couldn't get 'em in me moufj
o o
For six of the past twenty
years the number of deaths in
'.France has exceeded the births.
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