_Lament of the Gold Striper_
“God bless you, dearie, I’ll always be waiting,”
Before I got back she’d done other mating.
With a goop that stayed home without any rating,
’Twas while I was gone that he did all his bating.
_Sad Refrain_:
Nothing to think about, nothing to do,
Nothing to talk about, none to talk to,
Nothing to look at, nothing is new,
Nobody to love, no one loves you.
Nothing to drink except in the sea,
No one to say, “Have one on me,”
Bootleg it? Yes, if you have the fee,
The label is there, but it’s only weak tea.
The sun never shines, nothing but rain,
Feel sore all over, nothing but pain,
No steps forward, not any gain.
Left on the rocks, and lost in the game.
* * * * *
“You’ve got to admit one thing,” said the man who believes prohibition
has gone into effect, “and that is since the country went dry you don’t
see so many smashed up automobiles on the country roads.”
“Yes,” answered his friend, as he adjusted his glasses, “a fellow who
takes more than one shot of the hootch sold nowadays never gets as far as
the city limits.”
* * * * *
Their jests, their quips, insipid jokes,
I’ve heard till I am full;
Why can’t the men fling bullion,
Instead of flinging bull.
* * * * *
I’ve been swimming a lot lately and as a result am tanned a dark brown—so
dark that my wife won’t let me out of her sight for a minute around the
lakes—she’s afraid some women follower of the Stillman divorce case will
mistake me for an Indian guide.
_The Annual Is Out!_
Whiz Bang’s greatest book—The Winter Annual Pedigreed Follies of
1921-22—hot off the press. Mailing will begin in a few days. To those
thousands of Captain Billy’s friends who already have sent in their one
dollar bills, checks or stamps, we extend congratulations. Yours will go
out first, in the order in which your orders were and are being received.