The Pie-rate

He ate pie for breakfast

     He ate pie for dinner;

He ate pie for supper

     The miserable sinner.

And often at midnight

     He’d steal for a minute

Down into the pantry,

     And eat all he found in it.

And when he was dying

     He looked at the doc,

Tho’ sick his old hunger

     Came back with a shock.

“I wouldn’t mind dying,”

     He said with a sigh,

“If I knew that I always

     Could have enough pie.”

Jan. 25, 1912