The
airship man rose to the sky
All on an autumn day;
He
took an empty pail along
Upon his wayward way.
Up.
up he went, far out of sight,
His wife burst into tears;
He’d
never gone from home so far
In all their married years.
At
length he reached the Milky Way
Before a farmhouse door;
The
farmer ne’er had seen the like
Of such a thing before.
“How
much is milk a quart up here?”
He asked the farmer then;
“Down
on the earth ‘tis eight or nine,
And really milk is ten.”
“Milk?
Milk is nothing, friend, up here,
Of milk we have no end;
Our
rivers all are made of milk
Just milk away my friend.”
And
then he filled his milking pail
And bade the man good day;
A
pipe line will be coming soon
Down from the Milky Way.
Nov.
1, 1910
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