“FR-R-RAISH PEANUTS.”

Who is this man of mighty voice

Who bids all human kind rejoice—

Who visits bleacher and grand-stand

With roasted rapture in his hand?

“Peanuts! Fr-r-raish peanuts!”

Who, when the umpire shouts: “Play ball!”

Hears with disdain the feeble call.

And whose own stentor-modeled lungs

Drown out the noise of many tongues?

“Peanuts! Fr-r-raish peanuts!”

Who stirs the circumambient air

And moves his optics here and there

To find the man who cries: “Here, boy.

Give me one sack of roasted joy”?

“Peanuts! Fr-r-raish peanuts!”

Who hastens onward with his wares

While every individual glares

Who lacks the necessary price;

Who cuts a mighty slab of ice?

“Peanuts! Fr-r-raish peanuts!”

And when we seek our restless beds

With goober goblins in our heads,

What is the awful cry that seems

To be the burden of our dreams?

“Peanuts! Fr-r-raish peanuts!”

Baltimore News.