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Stock Market Quotations From the Works of SOPHRONIA TIBBS Collected by LEONARD HATCH and Illustrated' by HERBrROTH New York THE JOHN DAY COMPANY 192.6 Generated on 2015-06-11 11:27 GMT / http://hdl.handle.net/2027/mdp.39015064448726 Public Domain, Google-digitized / http://www.hathitrust.org/access_use#pd-google

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  • Stock Market

    QuotationsFrom the Works of

    SOPHRONIA TIBBS

    Collected by LEONARD HATCHand Illustrated' by HERBrROTH

    New York

    THE JOHN DAY COMPANY

    192.6

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  • COPYRIGHT, 1916, BY LEONARD HATCH

    FIRST PUBLISHED, DECEMBER, 19x6

    PRINTED IN THE U. S. A.FOR THE JOHN DAY COMPANY, INC.

    BY DOUGLAS C. MCMURTRIE, INC., NEW YORK

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  • To Those

    Who Know All About Wall Street

    and

    To Those

    Who Know Nothing About ItThis Garland of Song

    is

    Fondly Dedicated

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  • ContentsPAOE

    Wall Street 1

    The Opening 4

    The Tip 6

    The Broker 8

    The Dividend IO

    The Stock Exchange 11

    The Stock Certificate MBulls and Bears 16

    Bonds 18

    The Pool 10

    Cutting a Melon nLuncheon Time MThe Stenographer 2.6

    Selling Short 18

    The Big Operator 30The Margin Call 31The Bargain Hunter 34

    Around the Ticker 36

    The Lamb 38

    The Bond Salesman 40

    The Panic 4*-The Closing 44

    When Evening Comes 46

    vii

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  • Preface(in the approved manner)

    To those who know and love the poems ofSophronia Tibbs it may seem a work of supererogation to mention her personality, so completely do her poems themselves speak for andof her. And yet those of the great readingpublic to whom she comes for the first timeifthere be any such,those who will find her asolace and a galvanic delight, surely all suchare entitled to know more of this priestess oflyric song.

    I remember well the occasion when I metSophronia Tibbs for the first time. It was nocoincidence that took my path across hers, for Ihad come to the little village of Rawsbury inthe express hope of penetrating her seclusionand meeting her face to face. And such was myprivilege.

    It was on a warm afternoon in late June thather maidservant, the austere Deborah, answering my tap with the knocker on the old frontdoor, told me that I should find Miss Tibbs inthe garden. Thither I turned my footsteps, andthere I spied her, amid her beloved rosemaryand thimblewort, her lobelias and dwarf calomel, which she has so often sung. She was ministering to them; indeed at the instant I caughtsight of her she was looping up a loop of lupine

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  • on a lattice out of the way of a parasitical trap-weed just beneath. Inevitably there flashed into

    my mind her celebrated couplet :

    We should always be good to herbs and flowers,

    For they certainly are very good friends of ours.

    As she stood there in the sunshine, her black

    silk dress and spare figure outlined against amass of sunflowers behind her, I realized evenbefore she spoke that my pilgrimage had not

    been in vain. . . .

    I realized it still more half an hour later, as Isat with her in her parlor sipping the gun

    powder tea and eating the quaint little cakes

    sprinkled with antimony seedwhich Deborahhad served us. Everything in the room was in

    keeping with its owner, from the tatting of the

    Hepplewhite antimacassars to the graceful

    Chippendale andirons in the fireplace. I shallnever forget the picture Sophronia Tibbs made

    as she sat there, erect, shrewd, at once benefi

    cent and caustic, humble and proud. Some of

    her fellow-townsfolk have called her crabbed;

    to me she seemed rather a symbol of serenity.

    Indeed, she reminded me of "Mehitable" in her

    poem of that name. You remember, it begins :

    She has escaped many of the ups and downs of life,

    Never having had the experience of being a wife.

    At any rate, there she sat, a fragment of bygone days surviving into this twentieth cen

    tury, but very much alive for all that. And in

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  • her lap lay a portfolio, bound with whiteribbon, containing the voluminous manuscriptof all her poems, which she had entitled

    Poems of Passion and Current Events.

    It was from this portfolio that I obtained herconsent to extract the separate poems pertain

    ing to high finance which now make up the

    collection in this slender volume.

    So much for the genesis of this collection.

    And so much for Sophronia Tibbs herself. Yet

    how much more might be told of her. How, for

    example, she began writing poetry when she

    was hardly more than a child. How she earlyattracted the attention of her English teacher

    in the grammar grade by leaving on that lady's

    desk a rosy-cheeked apple to which was pinned

    a slip of paper bearing the lines :

    Here is an apple for you, Teacher Dear.

    My affection for you I trust it will make clear.

    From that day on it has been just one lyric afteranother, poured forth at white heat.

    A vast amount of curiosity has been expendedin wondering how it came about that SophroniaTibbs, in the secluded vale of Rawsbury, could

    ever have acquired her knowledge of the world

    of finance, and all its procedure. The answer is

    simple. When only thirty-one she inherited

    seventeen hundred and fifty dollars from a

    distant uncle. With this she promptly boughtseventeen hundred and fifty shares of stock in a

    xi

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  • gold mine in Arizona. Though every cent ofthat money was lost, the incident kindled inher an inextinguishable interest in Wall Streetand its ways. She was not embittered; but possibly the episode is the cause of the latentsardonic note which appears to a greater extentin these lyrics of Wall Street than in her poemsof love or horticulture.

    There is even a story that Sophronia Tibbs,leaving home for six months, disguised herselfas a boy and for all that time worked as amessenger in the Stock Exchange itself in orderto learn just what Wall Street is like. I placelittle credence in this rumor myself: I can aseasily imagine Sophronia surrendering her virtue as to think of her with clipped hair andtrousered limbs running errands in the canyonsof downtown New York. Yet there is the story,and, incredible as it sounds, it would serve toexplain Miss Tibbs' grasp of the financialworld.

    For it must be admitted, even by the mostcaptious, that she shows an almost uncannyacquaintance with what she in one of herpoems (not included in this collection) refersto as

    . . . the throbbing financial marts of tradeWhere men and their souls are marred or made.

    Those best versed in Wall Street affairs haveadmitted and admired Sophronia Tibbs' accu

    xii

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  • racy and insight in a field which might well beforeign to her. No less a personage than RufusDalrymple, the railroad king, upon reading theproof sheets of this book, said: "A veritablecompendium of useful financial data. I heartilyrecommend it as a manual to anyone undertaking either investment or speculation in theStock Market." Paxton Pelham, the financialwizard, was less kindly; with something akinto a sneer, he remarked: "Hm! I thought themuck-rakers had all died off"!" But then headded: "Just the same, you got to hand it tothis Sophie person; she knows her Wall Streetonions."

    Slang, if you will; but none the less a tribute.Yet no one would be more surprised than

    Miss Tibbs herself at such expert analyses of herpoems' subject matter. For, rightly or wrongly,she regards herself not as critic, controversialist, nor moralist, but as a humble handmaidenof the Muse. True, she has a rigid moralisticphilosophy, as is implied in such poems as' 'The Stenographer,

    ' ' "When Evening Comes,or the final line of "The Panic. ' ' But SophroniaTibbs is above all a singer, and her lines needno more justification than the haunting and ineffable lyric aroma pervading them. By that shemust stand or fall.

    LEONARD HATCH

    xiii

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  • Stock Market Quotations

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  • Wall Street

    It's not so much like Main StreetAs it is similar to the Zoo,

    For there are bulls and bears there,

    And of lambs more than a few.

    It is not at all surprisingThat it contains a great deal of noise,

    For lots of people are hurrying about,

    Both millionaires and messenger boys.

    Also many members of the public,All on the lookout for pelf,

    For an important rule of Wall Street is :

    "Every man for himself.

    A great many brokers offerTo assist you till their last breath;

    But 'tis well for you to realize

    They don't mean to starve to death.

    However, there is no other place

    Exactly like Wall Street;

    Whether you make money or lose it,

    The experience is quite a treat.

    2.

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  • A great many brokers offerTo assist you till their last breath

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  • The OpeningThe Stock Market opens at ten o'clock,And all about the members flock;For exactly five hours they will tryTo buy stocks low and sell them high.If of that they cannot make a go,At least they can buy them high and sell them low.

    So step up, ladies and gents, the Market is open. And from the bottom of my heartHere's hopingThat the day's events will so luckily runThat you'll make your fortune, each one, Whether you happen to be a million dollar buyerOr a shipping clerk taking his very first flier.

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  • So step up, ladies and gents, the Market is open

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  • The TipA tip is very quiet,

    It doesn't make much noise;But what a sacred thing it is

    Among the Wall Street boys.

    Tis passed along from mouth to mouth,It skips from ear to ear,

    And if you'll just believe it,It is beautiful to hear.

    It tells you just what stocks and bondsAre going up, and why;

    It fills you with the impulseTo immediately buy.

    It covers every naughty hookWith most alluring bait;

    And the nicest thing about it isThat it is always termed straight.

    And if upon a banana peelYou've ever had a slip,

    You know exactly how it feelsWhene'er you take a "tip."

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  • THE TIP

    'Tis passed along from mouth to mouth

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  • The Broker

    When stocks go up, he seems to think

    That they will never drop;

    But when way, way, way down they sink

    He fears they'll never stop.

    When Bulls are plenty as can be,

    Then nothing else will do;

    But when the Bears get busy, he

    Puts on a bear-skin too.

    Sometimes he's talkative as sin,

    Sometimes he won't say nothing,

    And when you ask him how to win,

    He's mum as any muffin.

    As for predicting how things'll go

    He always seems to fear it:

    He loves to say"I told you so!"

    But hates like time to hear it.

    He's non-committal if you try

    To force him that he tell,

    He'll say it might be wise to buy,

    And also wise to sell.

    In other words, such is his position,

    That he doesn't object to the usual commission.

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  • He'll say it might be wise to buy,

    And also wise to sell

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  • The Dividend

    "Hurrah, the dividend check has come;The postman brought it today;

    Of course it is not a very large sum,But 'twill help us on our way.

    'Twill aid to buy the baby shoes,And paper the sitting room.

    Also a part of father's lodge dues,And many another boon.

    "Of course 'twill not do all these things;To claim that would be rash;

    And yet it many a blessing brings,Like any other cash.

    "We hope that great prosperityWill continue without end;

    And that no corporation adversityWill stop our dividend."

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  • Hurrah, the dividend check has come

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  • The Stock ExchangeIt is housed in a stately edifice on Wall Street;It is very massive and grand, but also shipshape

    and neat;Its hours are ten to three,and every working day,It carries on its business in jts own unique way.In from all directions telephone messages pour,And spirited buying and selling is conducted "on

    the floor;"Each member is free to select his favorite "post;"The man who can shout the loudest, generally does

    the most. It's funny to see grown men like jumping jacks

    hop around,For though they pay thousands for their seats, they

    very seldom sit down.

    In spite of looking brave, these men are very scary;When they hear bad news they become very wary :When crops are poor, or Death some financier

    claimsThey consider that a mean trick to interfere with

    their aims ;Also elections and legislation they consider bad biz.They'd like to see everything in the world stay

    just as it is.Though they may have a lot of common sense, they

    always seem to "park it"Somewhere outside their heads when they enter

    the Stock Market.

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  • For though they fay thousands for their seats, they veryseldom sit down

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  • The Stock Certificate

    Beautiful, beautiful parchment of blue,Green, or brown, or other hue,The sound of your crackle so crispIs delightful (in its way) as a babe's lisp.

    I love your signatures and seals,Your scrollwork looking much like wheels,Your pictures of engine, or angel, or miner,

    Surely no other art could look finer.

    If you are as worthy as you look,I feel like cutting a caper.

    But often the best-looking certificatesTurn out to be just "a scrap of paper."

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  • Bulls and Bears

    Bulls and Bears are very fine beasts,But don't get on together, to say the least.I don't know which is wrong, or which is right,But while they're both on Wall Street, there'll

    always be a fight.

    Bulls always want to see the Market go higher,Until it's as high as the tallest spire;Bears always want to see it go lower,They don't care who gets covered with gore.

    To me it has always seemed very funnyThat, whichever it does, somebody loses money.And so it's as plain as plain can beThat Bulls and Bears can never agree.

    And this is the moral of this song:Whichever you choose, you're sure to choose wrong:For if you're a Bull, then prices will drop;But if you're a Bear, they'll soar to the top.

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  • Whichever you choose, you're sure to choose wrong

    17

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  • Bonds

    When some extra money is neededBy any of the foreign nations,

    Or when the same predicamentIs encountered by our own corporations,

    They get out an issue of bondsTo tempt the public with tempting percents;

    And they leave the matter of selling theseWith clever Wall Street gents.

    The latter announce in advanceWhen they will open the books,

    And the public is supposed to subscribeAs eagerly as rooks.

    When the books are opened,The buying public responds;

    Many individuals got the habitWhen they first bought Liberty Bonds.

    "Heavily over-subscribed" Is what they always say;

    I never read anything else,So of course it must be that way.

    And if you are a widow or orphan,With not too many a penny,

    Probably buying bonds with gilt edgesIs as good a way as any.

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  • "Heavily over-subscribed"

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  • The Pool

    You'd think anything which is called a PoolIs a sheet of water, moist and cool;

    But if you don't get out of one when you "orter,"You will find yourself in very hot water.

    A pool is a group of men, blithe and gay,But not resembling the Y. M. C. A.They take a stock not very well known

    And put it clear up on a golden throne.

    Then they say to the public: "Better get in,

    Or you'll lose a chance to make lots of 'tin'."But they don't tell the public about the pool,

    For that of themselves would be making a fool.

    They say: "This stock will be worth lots more;If you don't buy it now, later you'll be sore." And it often goes up, like 'twould never stop,And the public buys it, right at the top.

    Then it often goes down as if zero it would reach,But the pool doesn't care, for they've gone to

    Palm Beach.

    If the pool sticks together, everything's all right,If not, 'tis like the slang expression"Good

    Night!"

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  • But the pool doesn't care, for they've gone to Palm Beach

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  • Cutting a Melon

    When a corporation is prosperous,

    The Market begins to surmise

    That the future will containSome delightful surprise.

    Perhaps an extra dividend

    Will go to each stock holder;Maybe a melon will be cut

    'Ere the company's much older.

    When a melon is cut

    That is exceedingly nice,

    Because then those concerned

    Each get a slice.

    Why they say "melon"

    Has never been understood,

    If they said "pie" or "cucumber"'Twould do just as good.

    And sometimes those who've thought

    There 'd be a melon soon

    Find to their dismay

    It turned out to be a prune.

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  • . . . then those concerned

    Each get a slice.

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  • Luncheon Time

    The Market opens at ten o'clock,

    It does not close till three,

    But at noon the stomach feels it cannot

    Wait till it's time for tea.

    For even a banker or broker

    Cannot do without food,

    But he has to get it quickly

    Lest his absence should be rued.

    So perched upon a stool

    He frequently has his luncheon;

    Neither a messenger nor Morgan

    Has time for leisurely munching.

    He gets back very quickly,

    But still 'tis an open question

    Whether his gain in stocks and bonds

    Is worth the loss in digestion.

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  • Neither a messenger nor Morgan

    Has time for leisurely munching.

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  • The Stenographer

    A girl who is fond of admirationCannot do better than a situationAs Wall Street stenographer, because thenShe is surrounded by many men.

    The work is not too difficult,And yet good pay is the result.In her position she can stick,

    Provided she's good at arithmetic.

    Of course to be safe from temptation's lure,A girl should be modest and demure;Hell's hellish pitfalls are too closeTo girls who put powder on their nose.

    For alas ! 'mid the frenzied quest for gold,There are some men there, both young and old,

    Who fiends that they areare not aboveBetraying the sacred name of Love.

    Yet no young Wall Street stenographerShould feel that Fate is unkind to her:

    For many, beginning there, end their lifeBy a hearthstone as some rich banker's wife.

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  • . . . fiends . . . not above

    Betraying the sacred name of Love

    2-7

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  • Selling Short

    Oh, roller-skating 's exciting,And so are volcanoes too,

    And a good old-fashioned blizzardWill put you in quite a stew;

    But of all exciting pastimes,Or any kind of sport,

    There's nothing quite so thrillingAs the game of Selling Short.

    It isn't merely sellingSomething which you have got;

    It's much more complicated, You sell what you have not.

    And the thing that makes it exciting(If you don't believe me, try it)

    Is that after you have sold itYou have simply got to buy it.

    And so, when you go to buy it,If you have to pay a price

    Higher than what you sold it forThat isn't quite so nice.

    And the market is most disobliging Though no one seems to know why,

    For it's always down when you have to sell,And it's up when you have to buy.

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  • The Big Operator

    Some people call him a "Bull;". Others consider him a "Bear;"

    But all admit he is a mysteryHiding within his lair.

    Frequently he uses the telephoneTo purchase many a share;

    But when he gives an order to sell

    His rivals had best beware.

    If you should see his Private officeWith mahogany desk and chair,

    Whether the Market goes up or downYou'd think he did not care.

    And yetthough young and envied

    Gray locks are in his hair,For sometimes the Market's behavior

    Has given him many a scare.

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  • The Margin Call

    My God ! What is this Hellish LetterThe postman brings today?

    I think a bomb would please father betterHe cannot say it Nay.

    He bought his stocks outright at first,But his account kept on enlarging,

    Until at last he became so immersedHe took to buying "On Margin."

    And oh ! that is a dangerous act,

    For in trying to get rich quick,Many a soul has found it a fact

    That in the end it made him sick.

    For a margin call is a danger flash,If you get one you must not lag

    To put up more collateral or cash,Or else your fortune will sag.

    For Wall Street has its wicked menWho, with many a ghoulish shout,

    Just lure their victims in and thenProceed to sell them out.

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  • My God! What is this Hellish Letter

    33

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  • The Bargain Hunter

    When stocks are all a-boomingAnd things seem in Plenty's lap,

    And the public flocks to buy in swarming ranks,

    Tis then the Bargain HuntersDo not seem to care a rap,

    But keep their money in the Savings Banks.

    When prices are a-tumblingUntil they're way down low,

    And prospects are as dismal as can be,

    'Tis then the Bargain HuntersOn the horizon show,

    And look about to see what they can see.

    They seemed so kind of stupidWhen they would not seize the chance

    To follow with the crowd when wild it went;

    But they somehow look quite differentWhen the pockets of their pants

    Bulge with stock which later brings them twelvepercent.

    34

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  • Around the Ticker

    If you watch a crowd about a "ticker,"

    You might think they had been drinking liquor

    Or at least beer;

    For some look glum, and some look mad,

    And some look pleased, and some look sad,

    As they peer.

    Some are grumbling to their neighbors,

    Some look willing to cut up capers,

    As the tape's unrolled;

    Some seem almost ready to frolic,

    Some look as if they had the colic,

    At what they behold.

    They stay for hours, with these funny actions,

    Watching jumbled alphabets and fractions

    On the tape;

    From ten to three it ticks away,

    And from the verdict it has to say,

    There's no escape.

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  • 37

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  • The Lamb

    Little Lambs,

    Do not roam,

    Stay at home;

    Do not turn your feetToward Wall Street.

    Little Lambs,

    Though you thinkIn a twinkYou'll gain cash,Don't be rash.

    Little Lambs,

    Don't play the fool,But save your wool;Wall Street shearsWill bring you tears.

    Little Lambs,

    Oh, beware!Have a care !In that lairWolves are there.

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  • Little Lambs, do not roam

    39

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  • The Bond Salesman

    Father hoped he'd be a lawyer;Mother wished him a preacher to be;

    His sister favored him for an artist;But a Bond Salesman is he.

    At college he was a mighty athlete;It was a wonderful thing to see

    Him run right past the opposing tacklers; Now a Bond Salesman is he.

    He'd have made an excellent truckman;He could have chopped many a tree;

    Had brains enough to be a movie actor; But a Bond Salesman is he.

    Still, he might have turned out a gun-manNow languishing in "Cell 33;"

    Or he might have been pickpocket or bootleggerInstead, a Bond Salesman is he.

    He had to be doing something,So his mother's kind brother, Uncle G.,

    Gave him a desk in his office;And now a Bond Salesman is he.

    40

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  • The Panic

    The bottom's dropped out of the Market,

    It simply will not stay,And so the newsboys are shouting:

    "Panic on Wall Street today!"

    Stocks go lower and lower

    As if they would never stop;Of failures and of suicides

    There is a largish crop.

    The President and Secretary of Treasury

    Generally issue a proclamation,

    Saying: "Great wave of ProsperityExisting throughout the nation."

    But what good are proclamationsWhen stocks go down and down,

    And everyone watching the "tickers"

    Is wearing a frightened frown?

    Of course, after an endless time,Lowest levels the Market reaches;

    Nevertheless a panic is deplorable,

    And what a lesson it teaches !

    41

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  • "Panic on Wall Street today!"

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  • The Closing

    Three o'clock has struck at last,All the day's transactions are past;With the setting of the sun,Some have lost and some have won.

    If you lost, pray do not sorrow,You may win it back tomorrow;Besides, those who won todayTomorrow will probably throw it all away.

    Anyhowone more day is past,For three o'clock has struck at last.

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  • You may win it back tomorrow

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  • When Evening Comes

    All day they have worked hard on the Street,And now they are entitled to eat;And so they pause and haste awayTo keep their tryst with old Broadway.

    Amid the music, lights, and flowers,Some brokers beguile themselves for hours;And some neglectalas for these! The lessons learned at Mother's knees.

    The lights of Broadway are so bright,So tempting is its rare delight,Even Babylon, you may be sure,Possessed no greater feminine lure.

    But who shall blame them? Say, ah, who?Although one must such actions rue

    After their long day's arduous task,Forgetfulness is all they ask.

    Although they yield to Woman's wiles,And bask in painted and purchased smiles,Though to rum they may succumb, or beer,Let us grant them our prayers and shed a tear.

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  • All day they have worked hard on the Street

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  • Genera

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