CARRYING COALS
In the where is kept,
And the of for has slept,
In the great of Pottsville, way in the hole,
There came seven parties, all in coal;
But they had been in that before,
Nor had the of all o’er,
Which so the soul.
And one of ’em said, “It’s an delight
To be into no end of night,
Where the can’t manage to spring,—
And, talking of that, I’ve a notion, by Jing!
Let we ourselves mine out some to-day
To to the folks,—which I think, by the way,
Would be a thing.”
So they up their pockets, by a doubt,
And in the hotel they ’em all out;
But their as they o’er the weight,
Till one of them shouted, “By thunder, it’s slate!”
Yet the among them had in coal,
And that traffic his soul,
Since the Anno Eighteen Forty-eight.
For all of man’s is only a dream,
Which away like a plate of ice-cream,
And the best of fails, as we mark,
If you go for to when you’re all in the dark;
For there’s always a of a tale,
And big in little always prevail
As sure as there’s in the bark.
