A hush fell on the laughing throng,
It made them feel quite bad,
For most of them was people, and
Some parents they had had.
Both men and ladies did shed tears.
The music it did cease.
For all knew he had spoke the truth
By looking at his face.
(Change to Minor.)
The waitress she wept bitterly
And others was in tears
It made them think of the old home
They had not saw in years.
And while their hearts was heavy and
Their eyes they was quite red.
This brave and honest boy again
To them these words he said:
CHORUS
Never forget, etc.
Ballade to a Lady
(To Annabelle.)
Pipe to the tip I'm handing, Kid;
Get jerry to the salve I throw;
Just paste it in your merrywid
While I pull out the tremolo.
This stuff ain't any paper snow—
I never was a bull con gee—
Wise up to this and sing it slow:
You make an awful splash with me.
My line of bunk is like to skid;
(The subject is so smooth—get joe?)
My fountain pen's an invalid;
I can't dope words like L. Defoe
Puts in describing up a show,
But, kiddo, you have put the bee
On father, surest thing you know.
You make an awful splash with me.
Yop, I'm your little katydid;
Just listen to my chirp of woe;
And now I've made my little bid—
You get it? Follow me? Right-O!
If I could shoot like Eddie Poe,
I guess that you'd be h-e-p,
But here's the bet, now cop it, bo,
You make an awful splash with me.