"I would like a situation. I have hunted for it long," said a youth
who looked discouraged; "everything that is is wrong; there is no
demand for labor, no respect for willing hands, hence the people who
are idle are as frequent as the sands. I have waited in the pool hall
through the long and weary day, and no lucrative position seemed to
come along that way; I have stood upon the corner, smoking at my trusty
cob, but no merchant came to hire me, though all knew I had no job; I
have sat on every doorstep that against me wasn't fenced, you could
scarcely find a building that I haven't leaned against; I have smoked a
thousand stogies, I have chewed a cord of plug, I have shaken dice with
dozens, I have touched each cider jug, to sustain my drooping spirits
while I waited for a berth, with some up-to-date employer who'd
appreciate my worth. But the world is out of kilter and the country's
out of plumb, and the poor downtrodden voter finds that things are on
the bum."