The
farmer crossed the road at morn
To feed his hungry stock;
He
stopped quite suddenly as though
He’d just received a shock,
In
eagerness he bent him low,
His rustic heart athrill;
He
saw beside an auto track
A twenty dollar bill!
A
hobo came along just then
And saw him scoop the prize;
A
tremolo was in his voice,
And tears were in his eyes.
“Here
I have followed auto tracks
A thousand miles,” he said,
“And
all the way, believe me, pal,
I’ve never found a red.”
July
19, 1912
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