(We et it Chris’mas day).—Now what gits me,
An’ sets my wits ter bilin’ an’ a sozzlin,’
“Is how the cuss from this could hatch a goose!”
An’ Bill held up a smooth, worn, chiny knob,
Thet from some door hed long sence broken loose.
“That’s what I took from under this ol’ squab!”
“A Happy New Year, Bill,” I sez; “D’ye mind
’F I ast ye fer thet ‘Pope’s Nose’ thing behind?”
XXI
The Picture
A pitchur of a feller hangin’ up