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the season ’tis, my lovely lambs, of Sumner Volstead Christ and Co.the epoch of Mann’s righteousnessthe age of dollars and no sense.Which being quite beyond dispute as prove from Troy (N. Y.) to Cairo(Egypt) the luminous dithyrambsof large immaculate unmuteantibolshevistic gents(each manufacturing word by wordhis own unrivalled brand of pyro-technic blurb anent the (hic)hero dead that gladly (sic)in far lands perished of unheardof maladies including flu) my little darlings, let us nowpassionately remember how--braving the worst, of peril heedless,each braver than the other, each(a typewriter within his reach)upon his fearless derrièresturdily seated--Colonel NeedlessTo Name and General You know whoa string of pretty medals drew (while messrs jack james john and jimin token of their country’s lovereceived my dears the order ofThe Artificial Arm and Limb) --or, since bloodshed and kindred questionsinhibit unprepared digestions,come:let us mildly contemplatebeginning with his wellfilled pantsearth’s biggest grafter, nothing less;the Honorable Mr. (guess)who, breathing on the ear of fate,landed a seat in the legislat-ure whereas tommy so and so(an erring child of circumstancewhom the bulls nabbed at 33rd) pulled six months for selling snow
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