WHAT will we do when the good days come--
When the prima donna’s lips are dumb,
And the man who reads us his “little things”
Has lost his voice like the girl who sings;
When stilled is the breath of the cornet-man,
And the shrilling chords of the quartette clan;
When our neighbours’ children have lost their drums--
Oh, what will we do when the good time comes?
Oh, what will we do in that good, blithe time,
When the tramp will work--oh, thing sublime!
And the scornful dame who stands on your feet
Will “Thank you, sir,” for the proffered seat;
And the man you hire to work by the day,
Will allow you to do his work your way;
And the cook who trieth your appetite
Will steal no more than she thinks is right;
When the boy you hire will call you “Sir,”
Instead of “Say” and “Guverner”;
When the funny man is humorsome--
How can we stand the millennium?
_Robert J. Burdette._