If the fish won't take your bait,
Do not tarry.
'Twill never do to sit and wait,
If you'd marry.
Gather up your hook and line,
Somewhere 'round the water's fine;
Change your bait and keep on tryin'!
That's the system!
Should one rise in reach of you,
Oh, be prayerful!
Take your gaff and run him through,
But be careful!
Hold him tight for all you're worth,
Of marryin' men there's now a dearth,
And then—there're widows still on earth!!
Curses on 'em!
If a widow steals a beau
That you're landing,
Practice up a knock-out blow—
Him demanding.
A perfect lady, though you've been,
Just you cave her features in!
Killin' widows ain't no sin—
Never will be!
To My Valentine
The Jumbler, with one eye on the calendar, tells the thoughts he thinks—claiming immunity the while.
Saint Valentine, that good old gink,
Gives license free to say with ink
The things you feel, the thoughts you think.
So timid youths, of courts afraid,
Select this day to tell a maid
Things otherwise best left unsaid.
This custom all the judges know,
And breach-of-promise suits don't go—
So that's "how comes" what's writ below:
I love you, dear, to beat the Dutch!
I love you, dear, gosh-awful much!
Now could you love, obey—and such?
With love my heart seems 'bout to burst—
But I've now said all that I durst.
With love to all,—John Safety First.
