THE IRRIGATION AGE. 387 



How "the neighbors all cry as she passes With generous slices of country cured 



them by, pork. 



'There's Susan, the pride of the row!'" Their lips they would smack in extrem* 



And something like "daisy" and "setting satisfaction, 



me crazy''- Unloose the top button that served on 



These lines the dear public would miss their jeans 



Then chuck a "sweetheart" in, and "never To give them more room when they got 



to part" in the right action 



And end with a chorus like this: Upon the loved layout of bacon and 



"Oh, Susan Van Doozan! before I'd be 



] os ' n ' The women their faded sunbonnets would 



One glance of your eyes of sky blue, * ie on > 



I vow I'd stop us'n' tobacco and booz'n' And seek for the treasure in lane and 



That word is not nice, it is true in wood > 



I wear out my shoes'n', I'm losing my The tender y un g mustard, the sweet 



roos'n' dandelion, 



My reason, I should say, dear Sue And other S reen thin S 8 that thev knew 



So please change your views'n', become my e S ood > 



own Susan From out the great pot they the fruit 



Oh, Susan Van Doozan, please do!" of their labors 



Joe Lincoln, in L. A. W. Bulletin. Would stack for the feast in the wait ' 



_ ing tureens, 



The fragrance borne forth telling all of 



BACON AND GREENS. ^ neighbors 



The sweet songs of springtime are merri- The tale of the dinner of bacon and 



ly ringing greens. 



Out on the soft breezes with musical 



,, New Yorker s may dine on hot birds and 

 swell : 



m , , cold bottles, 

 The amateur poets are everywhere sing- 



The Jerseyites feast on the succulent 



In lines that sometimes rhyme remark - 



, , ,, Ohicagoans send down their ravenous 



ably well. throttles 



They sing of the birds that inhabit the 



, Most liberal swallows of home-doctored 



bowers > 



The brooks that are babbling mid fair " . ' 



, St. Louis may feed on corn pone and mo- 



rural scenes, 



IftSSPS 



The grass-covered meadows, the trees and 



The Bostonese revel in brown bread and 

 the flowers, 



But never a warble of bacon and greens. 



But none of these foods fit for angels 



O ; that was the dish that our forefathers surpasses 



relished The old-fashioned fillin' of bacon and 



When called in at noonday from field of greens. 



their work James Barton Adams. 



A big dish of greens with its bosom em- 



bellished 



