| Gid Fluke has turned evangelist,
The devil's tail he likes to twist; He tells upon the street each day How he was once a cast-away. And thousands come as he exhorts, Who shed big tears when he cavorts, And wonder at the change that's come O'er such a booze-besotted bum. This world is full of sin and woe, And ministers are scarce, I know; I might go out and snatch the brands That now are grasped in Satan's hands, But, sad to say, when I was young No cuss-words slid from off my tongue, I did not fall a prey to drink And down into the gutter sink, Nor patronize a gambling hell, That I in later years might tell The story of my early woes, And proudly show my flaming nose. For I was taught that what we sowed When starting out upon life's road, The same we'd reap in after years; That vice would bring us bitter tears. While, if we walked in virtue's ways, A plenteous peace would bless our days. And so I went to Sunday School And tried to live the Golden Rule; Quite confident when I was grown A long-tailed coat should be my own; That in the pulpit I should stand And sound the gospel through the land; While Gid, with other sinful chaps, Was in a box car shooting craps. But now I toil for meager pay At humble tasks the livelong day, While Gid is hoarding big, fat rolls By saving countless sinners' souls. __Albert Stroud. |
Verdigris Valley Verse
Albert Stroud
(Coffeyville, Kansas: The Journal Press. 1917)
Page 118
Visit the Home Page for Kansas