We’re down here in Okla., Where you never have the blues; Where the bandits steal the jitneys And the marshals steal the booze; Where buildings horn the skyline; Where the populace is boost; Where they shoot men just for pastime; Where the chickens never roost; Where the stickup men are wary And the bullets fall like hail; Where each pocket has a pistol And each pistol’s good for jail; Where they always hang the jury; Where they never hang a man; If you call a man a liar, you Get home the best you can; Where you get up in the morning In a world of snow and sleet, And you come home in the evening Suffocating in the heat; Where the jitneys whizz about you And the street cars barely creep; Where the burglars pick your pockets While you “lay me down to sleep;” Where the bulldogs all have rabies And the rabbits they have fleas; Where the big girls, like the wee ones, Wear their dresses to their knees; Where you whist out in the morning, Just to give your health a chance, Say “Howdy” to some fellow who Shoots big holes in your pants; Where wise owls are afraid to hoot And birds don’t dare to sing— For it’s hell down here in Okla., Where they all shoot on the wing. * * * * * In Lapland They sat alone in the moonlight, And she soothed his troubled brow. “Dearest, I know my life’s been fast, But I’m on my last lap now.” * * * * * Barbara Frietchie (From the Norsk Nightingale.) Recited by HARRY DIX Barbara Frietchie ban brave old hen, Her age it ban tree score and ten. She living in Frederick, Maryland,— It ban yust a dinky von night stand. But Barbara rise to fame, yu bet, And folks ban talking about her yet. Ef yu lak to know yust how dis ban, Ay skol tal yu story the best ay can. Op the street com Yen-ral Yackson, Ay bet yu he ban a gude attraction; For all dese Reubs skol rubber lak hal, And some of dem calling the yen’ral “pal.” Yackson, he sees dem on both sides Shooting dis bunk to save deir hides. Den op in vindow he see big flag, And tenk at first he must have a yag. No; sure enuff, it ban Union Yack. So Stonevall stand on his horse’s back, Yell at his men. Dey shoot, von and all, And into the gutter flag skol fall. Den Barbara get pretty mad, yu bet, And say, “Ay skol fule deze geezers yet.” She run to her bureau double haste, And, yerking out dandy peek-a-boo waist, Nail it to flagstaff, and vave it hard, And say: “Dis skol hold yu avile, old pard. Shoot, ef yu must, dis peek-a-boo, Ef it ant qvite holy enough for you, And tak gude aim at dis old gray head, But spare yure country’s flag!” she said.