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From the Harrisburg Telegraph, August 31, 1914.

He’d nothing but his little job
    And she her rosy cheek,
But love still lives on bread and cheese
    And kisses twice a week;
And so the speculators went
    To get the license out—
And what’s the use to try to preach
    When the wind of love’s about!

He’d nothing but his manly will
    And she her gentle grace;
But, oh, the world and all to him
    Was in her glowing face;
And so these speculators took
    The problem all must fight—
And what’s the use to fret and scold
    When all comes out so right!

He’d nothing but his youth and gleam
    And she her laughing eyes;
But they were in the vale of dreams
    Beneath the singing skies;
And so these speculators chose
    Their nest as others do—
And what’s the use to raise a fuss
    When they only did like you!

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