The Limit By Edgar Albert Guest

The Limit

I CAN stand for the man with the cute little bow
On the back of his green colored hat,
For there are a lot of good fellows I know
Who somehow have fallen for that.
The fedora of plush is a lid I don’t like,
It’s a fad that will never be missed,
But somehow I’ve always an itching to strike
The man with the watch on his wrist.

I’ve grown peevish at times at the ladylike man
Who says ‘Mercy me!’ and ‘O, dear!’
And the chap in the ball room who uses a fan
Is the chap I could swat on the ear.
The swell with a cane in the crotch of his arm
Isn’t human, I often insist,
But some day somebody is going to harm
The man with the watch on his wrist.

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