"What!" says I. "Did those birds come home?"
"Sure," says he. "But their feet are awfully sore."
Say, the other night I was coming down from Yonkers in a trolley car.
No, I wasn't loaded. Do you think every fellow who goes to Yonkers, has to get loaded to drown his sorrow? No, I was quite sober.
One fellow got up in a hurry to leave and brought up plump against a stunning Fire-Island Cinnamon-Bear blond, on the platform.
"It's a wonder you wouldn't be careful," says she of the red cranium.
"I am," says he, "but I was dazzled by your head-light."
The ruddy complexioned damsel came in and sat beside me.