Classic Poem

Tho' Grimes is dead, that good old man,
His son, Young Grimes, you know;
He lives in a suburbian house
That has a cupalo.

He is a light-complected man,
From affectation free;
You may have seen him reading in
The Public Liberry.

Young Grimes is careful of his health—
He's not an athalete;
He wears a muffler round his neck
And artics on his feet.

A chest protector, too, he thinks,
A move precautionary,
For bronical attacks may come
In Jan- or Febuary.

His morning's rolls and coffee stowed
(He owns a perculator),
He boards an Evingston express
Upon the Elevator.

Before he leaves he tellyphones
His grocer, Mr. Fitch,
And orders spinnage, reddishes,
And cramberries, and sich.

An ardent moving picture fan,
He goes to every fillum,
Accompanied by a maiden aunt
Who lives near State and Ellum.

I might run on with this, if I
Had nothing else to do;
But other things Young Grimes gets off
No doubt occur to you.