Ye'd be fooled a good
deal an' lose a lot iv ye'er money, an' thin ye'd tighten up. Ye'd be in
a cold fear night an' day that ye'd lose ye'er fortune. Ye'd wake up in
th' middle iv th' night, dhreamin' that ye was back at th' gas-house
with ye'er money gone. Ye'd be prisidint iv a charitable society. Ye'd
have to wear ye'er shoes in th' house, an' ye'er wife'd have ye around
to rayciptions an' dances. Ye'd move to Mitchigan Avnoo, an' ye'd hire a
coachman that'd laugh at ye. Ye'er boys'd be joods an' ashamed iv ye,
an' ye'd support ye'er daughters' husbands. Ye'd rackrint ye'er tinants
an' lie about ye'er taxes. Ye'd go back to Ireland on a visit, an' put
on airs with ye'er cousin Mike. Ye'd be a mane, close-fisted,
onscrupulous ol' curmudgeon; an', whin ye'd die, it'd take haf ye'er
fortune f'r rayqueems to put ye r-right. I don't want ye iver to speak
to me whin ye get rich, Hinnissy."
"I won't," said Mr. Hennessy.
LOVE SONNETS OF A HOODLUM
BY WALLACE IRWIN
I
Say, will she treat me white, or throw me down,
Give me the glassy glare, or welcome hand,
Shovel me dirt, or treat me on the grand,
Knife me, or make me think I own the town?
Will she be on the level, do me brown,
Or will she jolt me lightly on the sand,
Leaving poor Willie froze to beat the band,
Limp as your grandma's Mother Hubbard gown?
I do not know, nor do I give a whoop,
But this I know: if she is so inclined
She can come play with me on our back stoop,
Even in office hours, I do not mind--
In fact I know I'm nice and good and ready
To get an option on her as my steady.
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