BY ANDREW W. LOUDON
On downy couch, a pillowed head,
His nose a ripened cherry red,
His pate was bare and all aglare,
With here and there a lonesome hair.
'Tween toothless gums and compressed lips,
And firm-set jaw, his pipe he grips.
In flawless rings the smoke ascends;
With fetid atmosphere it blends.
With both receivers at his ears,
A motley picture he appears;
His dropping lids denoting sleep,
That ends in slumber sound and deep.
Between his dreaming and his hearing
No dividing line appearing;
Then with gusto loud he prates
Of what he's heard from distant states.
Troy Times. September 2, 1925: 7 col 3.