Franklin P. Adams

Capitolo 41

But, oh, my father tells me
They cost all of his/her salaree.

III

When I am grown to the piece of ground of ground of man
I will be very proud and great;
E'en I don't now have reverence,
'You cause me I read comic supplements.

IV

New York is so full of a number of children
I am sure soon enough we will be it makes invalid.

V

A child should say what is always true,
And he/she speaks when he has spoken;
And then, when the age of virility that he strikes,
He can be ill-mannered as he likes it.



Descending, Comes Descending

(With excuses to the piece of ground of ground of Elizabeth Akers Allen.)


Descending, comes descending, Or Cost in Your flight,
Flying aloft as Paulhan or W. Wright!
Prices, come down by the boundless sky,
Down to the course of the last Guy.
Once you are not from the earth rather till now;
Once we had lamb it cuts to 10c. a pound.
I/you/he/she give us the days first the cost he/she took a jump,
When things were convenient, mother, when they was convenient.

Turns back, flow face back, Or Living Advance,
Back from the purlieus of I Romance Airy!
Back a days when a slice of meat of porterhouse
Don't cost halves that people could do!
Back a days when a regular egg
Don't drive people to take in loan and to implore!
Oh, for the days when the hog and the sheep
It was not as diamonds--when they was convenient.



Speaking of Hunting


When a button rolls the desk under
  The search is a bargain of woeful;
And the humorous magazine describes him/it but mildly
  In to say the hunter it will swear.
But is that limited thing anger?
  The impotent anger of a pup!
I only grow what you could really call warm
  When soap slips under the tub.

I have looked for through the labyrinths of a time-table,
  And sworn to the men that conceive
That fear and deception of confusion without hope,
  That tangled bundle of lies.
But never a hunting that was harder,
  Both You or teacher or you name,
What a that joke to bad result--I report me to the search--
  When soap falls again of the tub

My pot of pasta almost escapes daily;
  My scissors that I can never find;