Life Is Made Up Of Sobs, Sniffles,

[a]ll Of Life, As We Know It, Moves In Little, Unavailing Circles. More Justly Than To Anything Else, It Can Be Likened To The Game Of Baseball. Crack! We Hit The Ball, And Away We Go. If We Earn A Run (in Life We Call It Success) We Get Back To The Home Plate And Sit Upon A Bench. If We Are Thrown Out, We Walk Back To The Home Plate -- And Sit Upon A Bench.

Be Always Decent And Right In Your Home Town; And When You're On The Road, Never Take More Than Four Glasses Of Beer A Day Or Play Higher Than A Twenty-five-cent Limit.

In Time Truth And Science And Nature Will Adapt Themselves To Art. Things Will Happen Logically, And The Villain Be Discomfited Instead Of Being Elected To The Board Of Directors. But In The Meantime Fiction Must Not Only Be Divorced From Fact, But Must Pay Alimony And Be Awarded Custody Of The Press Despatches.

It's Said That Love Makes The World Go Around. Let Me Tell You, The Announcement Lacks Verification. It's The Wind From The Dinner Horn That Does It.

You'd Think New York People Was All Wise; But No, They Can't Get A Chance To Learn. Every Thing's Too Compressed. Even The Hayseeds Are Bailed Hayseeds. But What Else Can You Expect From A Town That's Shut Off From The World By The Ocean On One Side And New Jersey On The Other?