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Here We Go Again!

A rosy-cheeked lass from Dunelen,
Whom the Hoboken rascals called Helen,
While trying to please,
Spread a social disease
From New York to the Straights of Magellan.

There once was a hobo named Nick.
The good stuff from garbage he'd pick.
The cans he would smash
And turn in for cash.
The jam jars he'd thoroughly lick.

There once was a young man named Bealing
Who boarded a bus bound for Wheeling.
A sign by the door
Said, "Don't spit on the floor,"
So he leaned back and spat on the ceiling!

A buxom young typist named Baynes,
At her work, took particular pains.
She was good at dictations
And long explainations,
But she ran more to bosom than brains.

Here we are into the Fall.
The squirrels are having a ball,
Out gathering nuts
And spreading their guts
On the roads that lead into the mall !

A fellow named Phineas Fly,
Lived just like a pig in a sty.
When asked why this was,
He replied, "Oh, because . . .
It ain't none of your business, that's why!"