THE FOGY DAYS AND NOW. 189 



Now my head is growing whiter, 



My days they will soon be ended ; 

 [ dropped my pail, and spilt my milk, 



And its too late to be mended. 



After another forty years have sped, 



Don't think I much shall care 

 How this little world is wagging, 



Nor that I didn't get my share. 



Got to think next world's the big one ; 



My future hopes all center there. 

 And now wouldn't swap the chances 



For the wealth of worlds down here. 



I have made right smart of money. 



But somehow never could it keep ; " 



The thing was so slick and eely. 



That I couldn't make it heap. 



I never loved the mighty dollar 



As much as what it would buy. 

 And I couldn't keep from spending, 



I reckon that's the reason why. 



But a word more about Atlanta, 



Our grand Lady and so fair; 

 The crown upon her queenly head, 



The sparkling jewels in her hair. 



Such beauteous face, winsome form — 



Ain't she a daizy, daizy belle? 

 And what her triumphs are to be, 



Is more than weuns now can tell. 



She steps lightly like a fairy. 

 All her movements so full of grace ; 



