The last day of August is once more st hand–
Now where is that Summer we carefully planned?
We meant to Vacation a week–maybe two,
But the budget, it hollered–I worked right on through.
I thought we’d go fishing a heck of a lot,
But the nights were so cool, and the days were too hot.
I thought we’d go swimming each week-end or so,
But girls’ suits got so rare that the wifey–you know!
I thought we would picnic with some of the bunch,
But the skeeters devoured us–the flies ate our lunch.
I thought I would raise us a vegetable crop,
But it turned out to be my most horrible flop.
So I tried to raise flowers, but two months ago
The insects moved elsewhere; they can’t starve, you know.
The first of Seotember is with us, but then
The first of next June, we’ll try it again.
by Ray Romine Wednesday, September 2, 1936
