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From The Tacoma Times, December 5, 1912. By Berton Braley.

 They eat off a trunk and they sit on a box,
 The floor is all cluttered with fish-nets and socks,
 They live on spaghetti and red ink and cheese
 And talk about “Art” with some unction and ease.
 Their hair’s never trimmed, and it’s seldom they shave,
 At “puritan morals” they sneer and they rave;
 They care not to sweep or to scrub or to dust,
 They never pay bills till they find that they must,
 They go in for fads in their manner of dress,
 They revel in dirt and they’re fond of a mess.
 Of “base money grubbers” they frequently rant,
 Referring to artists who “sell”—which they can’t!
 Yet give them a chance where the cash is the test,
 They’re just as commercial as all of the rest.
 They strut and they swagger, they poise and they pose,
 And each has a horn which he constantly blows,
 Their minds and their rooms with disorder are rife—
 And they call this “Bohemian Life!”

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