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The Bum and the Farmer’s Son
One fine day, in the month of May, a dirty old bum came hiking; He sat down by a pig pen, which was very much to his liking. On the very same day, in the month of May, a farmer’s son came piping; Said the bum to the son, “If you’ll only come, I will show you things to your liking. I will show you the bees, and the cigarette trees, and the gum drop heights, where they give away kites, and the big rock candy mountains; And the lemonade springs, where the blue bird sings, and marbles made of crystal; you can whiff the breeze from the mince pie trees, where the wind blows fine and frisky; and you can join the band of Rocky Mountain Sam, and get yourself a sword and a pistol.” The farmer’s son then went along, listening to the bum’s merry song; and for six months they did travel. Said the bum to the son, “When I get done, you’re going to be a little devil.” The punk looked up with his big blue eyes, and then he said to Sandy, “Now we’ve been a hiking all day long, now gosh darn where’s your candy? You put a brace on my leg, and showed me how to beg, and you told me you were my jocker; and you told me lies, when you promised me pies, and you called me an apple knocker; I’m a goin’ back home, no more to roam, I’m packing my junkerino; You can bet your lid, that this Hoosier kid, won’t be any bum’s punkerino.”
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Misplaced Eyebrow—“There is a hair in my soup.”
Diplomatic Waiter—“Probably out of your mustache.”
“I never thought of that.”
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