Dear Editor: While coming over to America on a steamer, the mate rushed up to me and threatened to blow up the ship if I didn’t give him a kiss.
What did I do?
I saved the lives of four hundred people.
* * *
Lives of ’skeeters all remind us,
While short skirts are all the go,
That to them existence must be
Just one great big burlesque show!
* * *
Yes, Gus, ’tis sad but only too true that in Georgia the peaches grow on the limbs while at the beaches—but why break the monotony?