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A Busy Little Man

From The Birmingham Age Herald, August 24, 1913.

Again he comes, on eager feet,
    His wagon at his heels;
He pauses at my window seat
    And for my trade appeals.

“What will you have?” I hear him ask
    In brisk, storekeeper voice;
And I must lay aside my task
    And gravely make my choice.

And he, as I each package name,
    As gravely hands it out;
Then, with my note in pay for same,
    He hurries on his route.

For cash, it seems, he little cares—
    He knows my word is good;
And so I question not his wares
    As good housekeepers should.

I fear the coffee that I buy
    Is pebbles, picked with care;
I dare not in the sugar pry
    For only sand is there.

My beefsteak is a sorry show—
    I think it must be bone;
And for a loaf of bread I know
    He’s wrapped me up a stone.

But bless his heart! I help him play
    In every way I can;
And so he labors through the day
    A busy little man.

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