Come, Kiss the Heroine!

Dear Editor: While coming over to America on a steamer, the mate rushed up to me and threatened to blow up the ship if I didn’t give him a kiss.

What did I do?

I saved the lives of four hundred people.

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Lives of ’skeeters all remind us,

While short skirts are all the go,

That to them existence must be

Just one great big burlesque show!

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Yes, Gus, ’tis sad but only too true that in Georgia the peaches grow on the limbs while at the beaches—but why break the monotony?

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The hired hand, Gus, went to town the other night to a dance. When he got back he said that “nothing stands between certain dancers and pneumonia but a sense of loyalty to their employers.”

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Oh, Myrt, do you know Aurora Borealis? They say she was all lit up last night.

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No, Geraldine, Sandy Hook is not a Scotchman.

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I was walking down the street the other day and on the far side was a fellow who looked familiar. “Hello, Bill,” I says. “Hello, Tom,” says he. “My name ain’t Tom,” I says. “Well, my name ain’t Bill, either,” says he. With that, I looks at him an’ he looks at me an’ sure enough, it was neither of us.

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