And Ikey Aarons’ll swallow his knife,
And make us all think he’s taking his life,
And little Freda, she’ll pass round the hat,
She’ll smile and say nothing—she’s just good for that!”
Well, we emptied our pockets—you bet we did!—
Every one of us big ’uns and each little kid
Ran home for their banks as fast as they could;
And we raised the money, and all felt good;
And next day, early, we brought Jack back.
So, now, things run in the same old track,