THE RED, RED ROSE The red, red rose is beautiful, As it grows by the garden-walk, But do not sit on the red, red rose— There’s a thorn in its every stalk! THINGS WE SHOULD NOT FORGET No man can be all right—half of him is left. And no matter which shoe you put on first you always put the left one on last. What kind of cow gives the milk of human kindness? If all men were created alike, as the constitution of the United States proclaims, what an awful time married women would have trying to find their husbands! If the man who wrote “The Snow, the Snow, the Beautiful Snow” lived in Florida, then the man who wrote “There Is No Place Like Home” never had a wife; ergo, no mother-in-law! “There is more pleasure in giving than in receiving.” Certainly, if you are talking about a licking. Any five-year-old kid knows that. Most people keep their spirits up by pouring spirits down. The Society for the Prevention of Crime is going to stop the Poultry Show in Madison Square, New York. They say it is a fowl (foul) show. A bald-headed man is surer of salvation than a man with an abundance of hirsute appendage, there being not a hair between him and Heaven. You can use the old saying “Slow but sure” when talking to me, but for the sake of your own personal comfort, don’t say it to Dan Smith—and above all don’t say it to Thomas Lipton. We are all kings and queens in this country—we all have crowns on our heads. Men’s minds are like onions: some of them are stronger than others, and what is in them often brings tears to women’s eyes. Hop medasin Kompanie: Gents—please dont send me enymoar uf yer patent medasin sirkulars. every tim i reed won uf them i half every diseas yu menshun. last sumor i hed the mesells an the kattel tuk it an they broak out uf the pastchur. Deer doctur: mi wife used tu stutter sum wen she talked. i used siks botels uv yer wundurfeel Remadie an now she has the locke gaw. pleas sent tu moar botels fer mi mutherinlaw. Yers trooly Hen Henpeck ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Rapid Fire By HARRY L. NEWTON COPYRIGHT MCMIII BY WILL ROSSITER Tom (Comedian): Can you tell me where there’s a fire-insurance office? Dick (Straight): Why, are you going to insure your property? Tom: Well, not exactly; but my boss says he’s going to fire me, and I want to see if I can’t get protection from the fire. Dick: Well, why don’t you attend to business? Get around bright and early in the morning. Tom: I would, only my watch stopped this morning. Dick: What was the matter with it? Tom: A bedbug got between the ticks.