Poor Cutie! She was a great kid and never hurt anybody. The undertaker who embalmed her wept like a baby. And the horses that carried her to the graveyard walked slower than usual.
The birds keep flying over the place where she’s buried. And at night people who knew her grow sad. She was a little bit rough in her work, but she meant well.
There is no use prolonging the discussion. Wherever our little warm mamma has gone there the flowers are blooming and the band is playing and the boys are all having a good time.
Rest in peace, Cutie. When we get rich we will buy you a tombstone and have three words chiseled under your name:
Faith, Hope and Charity.
Transcriber’s Notes
[Page 8]: “exact appelation” changed to “exact appellation”
[Page 27]: “fox trottter” changed to “fox trotter”