Wasn’t much past fifty-nine, Led a life serene and fine, Lived just on the edge of town, Liked to have the folks look round. Greatest chum of little tads, Liked to humor all their fads, Fixed their wagons, made them trains, Soothed their many cares and pains. Made no difference to Tim, If you’d never heard of him, He would always say, “Hello,” Said his mother taught him so. Worldly goods he hadn’t much, Never seemed to care for such, Said he liked the Master’s way, Of doing things for just today. Dear old Tim took sick one night, Thought his spirit would take flight, But we all just hurried in, And it helped revive old Tim. Said it made him awful glad, Wished a larger house he had, But we all said, get well, Tim, Couldn’t lose a man like him. * * * * * The Business Man. Here is to the business man, Who does the very best he can, And pays to each their honest debt, And don’t forget it makes him sweat. He labors from the morn till night, With brain and muscle in the fight, To keep his head above the stream, When finances are not serene. He’s to the one you always go, When life has pained you with a woe, You know his purse is always free, To lessen grief or misery. You toss on him most carelessly, The gratis job of town trustee, And then you pass around the word, He’s just the man for the school board. He helps to school your girls and boys, He shares with you your pains and joys, He helps to pay the preacher’s bill, And aids the churches with good will. He has to pay his bills when due, But if he asks the same of you, You think your credit’s met his fears, And let it run along for years. You let him long and look and look, At your account upon the book, And you’ll admit if you are frank, He pays your interest at the bank. If he would say and tell you true, When your account has long been due, That ten per cent was charged to you, You’d swear until the air was blue.