And I must say that your clothes look bad.
It’s the same old hat I saw before,
Your coat, I see, is somewhat tore.
In the knee of your pants another tear,
And your shoes, they look the “worse for wear,”
And what in the world became of your vest?
The young man said, “I’ve been out West.”
Small Town Hotel
A bed, a washstand, a lamp and a chair,
An old broken comb to dress your hair;