He was a genial, smiling man And fond of whisky plain, But when he joined the temperance club, He never smiled again.
He went on a lark, So his wife did remark, And some angry words, too, did she mutter. On a lark he went out, Of that fact there's no doubt, But he came in, alas! on a shutter.
He who courts and goes away, May court again another day; But he who weds and courts girls still May go to court against his will.
Her face was happy, His face was stern; Her hand was in his'n, His'n was in her'n.
How by the statesman insincere Man's weary soul is vexed. He'll shake your hand one minute and He'll pull your leg the next!
"How to make your trousers last," "Make your coat and waistcoat first."
"I hate a liar," Wiggins cried, Said Jiggins, "Then 'twould seem You really ought to try and hide Your lack of self-esteem."
Mary had a little lamb, But she thought it was immense: With new green peas and other things It cost her ninety cents.
Mary had a little waist Where waists were meant to grow, And everywhere the fashions went Her waist was sure to go.
MRS. POWELL--"I have such an indulgent husband!" MRS. CAMERON (spitefully)--"Yes, so Justin tells me, but he sometimes indulges too much, doesn't he?"
My dentist has an eagle eye And vicious tools he hacks with, He's clever, but I've come to think He'd make a better blacksmith.
Of all the saws That I ever saw saw, I never saw a saw Saw like this saw saws.
Rowley Powley, pudding and pie, Kissed the girls and made them cry.
Seven little missionaries-- Horrible their fate-- Cannibals picked clean their bones Then they were ate.
She heard the fog-horn blowing, "And what is that?" quoth she, The sailor merrily Replied: "it's just the dog-watch, ma'am, Whose bark is on the sea."
Sing not to me of falling dew Upon the purple hills, For I am worried far too much By falling due of bills.
The fate of Lot's wife Was all her own fault; She first turned to "rubber," And then turned to salt.
They say the baby looks like me, A circumstance I dreaded, But the only likeness I can see Is that we're both bald-headed.
Three women may a secret keep If, as it has been said, There's one of the lot has heard it not And the other two are dead.
To-morrow never comes, they say; But all such talk is idle gush, For when we have a debt to pay To-morrow gets there with a rush.
"What's the matter here?" asked a stranger of a small boy, as he noticed a large wedding party coming out of a church on Fifth avenue. "Nawthin' but the tied goin' out."
When we first dined at a cafe We feared they'd drop their trays, but later We learned, somewhat to our dismay, It takes--as scores of men will say-- A big "tip" to upset a waiter.
"Where are you going, my pretty maid?" "I'm going to cut the corn," she said. "Can I go with you, my pretty maid?" "You're no chiropodist," she said.