“I want my hair cut, and no talk.” “The——” began the man in the apron. “No talk, I tell you!” shouted the heavy man. “Just a plain hair-cut. I’ve read all the papers and don’t want any news. Start away now.” The man in the apron obeyed. When he had finished, the man who knew everything rose from his chair and surveyed himself in the glass. “Great Scott!” he exclaimed. “It’s really true, then? You barbers can’t do your work properly unless you talk.” “I don’t know,” said the man in the apron, quietly. “You must ask the barber. He’ll be in presently. I’m the glazier from next door.” ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Bits of Verse & Prose By Edwards & Ronney LOVE’S WONDERMENT I loved a maiden fair as dewy morn; She was not lean, nor was she stout; And as we spooned the livelong day I wondered how ’twould all turn out; And the sun went up in the azure sky, And the sun went down as she and me Sat all the time and wondered why, And questioned what the end might be. I’m married; my wonderment is o’er— The future now is no longer hid; For while my darling lays back to snore I walk the floor with a howling kid; And my son I raise from his little bed, For he won’t stay there—not he; And as my heel goes on a tack I wonder what the end will be. If you are in need of a good smart bank clerk go to Canada—the smartest ones have gone over there. FOUND IN A COUNTRY GRAVE-YARD Mary was healthy, Mary was young; But Mary lies here, for she had but one lung. She talked all her life till she died with lockjaw; I now rest in peace—she was my mother-in-law. The grass is green, the rose is red, But the man who lies here had no hair on his head. A man lies under this monument grand Who was caught with five aces at once in his hand. With seven wives when on earth he was blessed, But now the poor lobster is taking a rest. Lonely and sad and silent and damp, But nobody cares, for here lies a tramp. Johnny lies here all sweet and serene; Johnny ate apples both sour and green. On earth it may rain, hail and snow, But the climate is different, here below. The day-time is light and the night-time is dark; Did anyone know me—my name was John Clark? I never thought skating in winter was nice; But where I am now I wish they had ice. Neither flesh nor blood rest beneath these stones; Just fifty pounds of skin and bones.