The Night Before Pay Day
’Twas the night before pay day and all through my jeans
I searched but in vain for the price of some beans.
Not a quarter was stirring—not even a jit;
The coin was off-duty—milled edges had quit.
Move forward! Move forward! Oh time, in thy flight,
Make it tomorrow—just for tonight.
* * *
Hubby came home, tangle-footed,
His wifie met him at the door,
Grabbed the bottle from his pocket—
“Empty? Go and get some more!”
* * *
Irene Talbot, skillful typist,
Works for Dave A. Masterbilt.
Writes a neat and snappy letter,
Marks it in this way: “DAM/IT.”
* * *