“Overstocked!”

Of all the words upon the list

     That should be soundly knocked,

He knows of none that needs it quite

     So much as “overstocked”.

It’s ringing in his ears by day,

     He dreams of it at night;

He fears it has a strangle hold,

     He cannot shake it quite.

He lost his job, and started out

     To find one fully bent;

The marts were “overstocked” with help,

     No matter where he went.

He searched along the waterfront,

     Where countless boats were docked.

It was the same old answer there:

     “Just now we’re overstocked.”

He used to act upon a time,

     So he tried the many shows;

“We’re overstocked” exclaimed the man

     Whom everybody knows.

He used to write, so took his pen,

     But found his pathway blocked;

“We like your stories,” scribbled they,

     “But we are overstocked.”

He turned to this and turned to that,

     But all were well supplied;

No line but what was “overstocked”

     In all the country wide.

From laborer to president,

     At every door he knocked;

And so he turned back to his home,

     Which wasn’t “overstocked”.

He tries to live a goodly life,

     And do whatever’s right;

He is not blaming anyone

     For all his sorry plight.

What worries him is, by and by,

     When heaven is unlocked.

Will Peter meet him at the gate

     And say “We’re overstocked!”

         

March 27, 1913

For Wed. Apr. 2