Dear Chap who writes his views upon his envelope’s outside:
I can’t ignore you longer, although Heaven knows I’ve tried;
You ask why I don’t ride a bike to rest my feet and stuff:
I got me one I ride to work and back and that’s enough.
About the hot and hungry, Barb is very seldom home
Along about the time I pass, so I just sweat and foam;
Of course, now, if she WERE at home, without a single doubt,
She’d gladly pass me pop and cokes and clean the ice-box out.
You speak of slushy letters–why, my laddie, don’ ya know
I never take THAT KIND to her–NO POSTMAN is THAT SLOW!
You see, old boy, on all you chaps I have the inside track:
I CENSOR all her LETTERS, GOING OUT or COMING BACK!!
–That Mailman!
by Ray Romine Tuesday, July 27, 1943
