Sinopsis

Did some one ask if I am on the job? I sure am to the pay-roll with my lay, A hot tabasco-poultice which will stay Close to the ribs and answer throb-to-throb. Here have I chewed my Music from the cob And followed ion from the get-away Past the big Grand Stand where the Pousse-Café Christens my Muse as Jennie-on-the-Daub. Hark ye, all marks who break the Pure Fool Law, How I, the Windy Wonder of the Age, Have fought the Tender ion to a draw And got my mug upon the Sporting Page, Since Love and I collided at the curve And left me with a Dislocated Nerve.