"Never mind; give it to us no matter what it is," cried one of the students.
"Let her flutter!"
"Poetry for mine!"
"Let her flow, Songbird!"
"That's right. Turn on the poetry spigot, Songbird;" and thus urged the would-be poet of Brill began:
"The world is black and I feel blue,
I do not know what I'm to do,
That fellow hit me in the head
And left me in the road for dead.
I go around from hour to hour
And I am feeling mighty sour.
I am consumed with helpless woe——"
"Because I lost that heard-earned dough,"
completed Tom, rather suddenly, and this abrupt ending caused a general laugh.