Classic Poem

The West, so they say, is the home of the jay, And Missouri's the
state that can grind them. This may all be, but just
take it from me, You don't have to go out West to find them. If
you want to see the real jay delegation, The place where the
real rubens dwell, Just hop on a train at the
Grand Central Station, Get off when they shout " New Rochelle. "
Only forty-five minutes from Broadway, think of the changes it
brings; For the short time it takes, what a diff'rence it makes In the
ways of the people and things. Oh! what a fine bunch of ru-
bens, Oh! what a jay atmosphere; They have whiskers like hay, and im-
agine Broadway only forty-five minutes from here. Only here.
When the bunco men hear that their game is so near, They'll be swarming here
thicker than bees are; In Barnum's best days, why he
never saw jays, That were easier to get to than these are. You
tell them old jokes and they laugh till they sicken; There's giggles and
grins here to let. I told them that one about
" Why does a chicken " The rubens are all laughing yet.
Only forty-five minutes from Broadway, not a cafe in the
town; Oh! the place is a bird, no one here ever heard Of Del-
monico, Rector or Browne. With a ten dollar bill you're a spend-
thrift; if you open a bottle of beer You're a sport so they say, and im-
agine Broadway only forty-five minutes from here. Only here.