If she met him or he met her, I knew that something must occur; For they were just like flint and… To strike the spark of woe and wea… Or like two splinters broken fine,

Because I was a wonton wild And welcomed many a lover, Who is the father of my child I wish I could discover. For though I know it is not right

The aged Queen who passed away Had sixty servants, so they say; Twice sixty hands her shoes to tie… Two soapy ones have I. The old Queen had of beds a score…

He asked the lady in the train If he might smoke: she smiled cons… So lighting his cigar and fain To talk he puffed away content, Reflecting: how delightful are

Light up your pipe again, old chum… I’ve got to watch the bannock bake… You’d little think that we were so… Though where I don’t exactly know… The man—size mountains palisade us…

It was the steamer Alice May that… And touched in every river camp fr… It was her builder, owner, pilot,… Who took her through the angry ice… Who patched her cracks with gunny…

Would it be loss or gain To hapless human—kind If we could feel no pain Of body or of mind? Would it be for our good

Jenny was my first sweetheart; Poor lass! she was none too smart. Though I swore she’d never rue it… She would never let me do it. When I tried she mad a fuss,

When I was with a Shakespeare sho… I played the part of Guildenstern… Or Rosenkrantz —at least I know It wasn’t difficult to learn; By Reader, do not at me scoff,

The General now lives in town; He’s eighty odd, they say; You’ll see him strolling up and do… The Prada any day. He goes to every football game,

She was so wonderful I wondered If wedding me she had not blundere… She was so pure, so high above me, I marvelled how she came to love m… Or did she? Well, in her own fash…

I bought my little grandchild Ann A bright balloon, And I was such a happy man To hear her croon. She laughed and babbled with delig…

I often wonder how Life clicks because They don’t make women now Like Mammy was. When broods of two or three

My Father Christmas passed away When I was barely seven. At twenty—one, alack—a—day, I lost my hope of heaven. Yet not in either lies the curse:

How often have I started out With no thought in my noodle, And wandered here and there about, Where fancy bade me toddle; Till feeling faunlike in my glee