Mason City

From Blueberry Boat

Lyrics

Came a card marked Mason City,
From my forwarder.
Shut the door don't let my dad see,
Read aloud "Dear Sir...

...Understanding you account an upright gent-
-lemen Aetna Life agreed and lent.
By the way my fee is 2.6 percent."

Write again the Riceville widow,
S.A.S.E..
I would guess they'll be turned out though,
I'll still make my plea.
If the Dunlay heirs cannot be seen to care,
Then the Banker's Life will surely think it fair,
To not give extensions as they musn't dare.

Write Des Moines on several matters,
And I near anoint.
Ladle thick the pleasant flatters,
Then comes the point.

"Mr. Nelson wouldn't like to hear it said,
As he's too proud so I do it in his stead.
He shall need an extension" so it read.

Take the Oregon Short Line to Salt Lake,
Take the Pere Marquette take the Michigan Central
to West Madison for Christ's sake.
Forgemen Molders Blacksmiths Boilermakers,
None on the make.
Up for shade on Crumb Hill,

Get something to make my hands still.
But now,

Wait!

How are you my nabs?
Little tender-footed crabs,
Meet my knuckle duster.

You geeched that gazoon's gow,
Tried to break-in to the bow.
Go wipe your nose.

I'm just hanging out with some noler knockums,
Just passing time waiting 'till my stock comes.

Prussian who got jockered,
My snapper till your knockered,
Get on the snam.

The chivman wants your chip,
Better dummy up then go dip.
You're outta turn.

I learned that the lowest form of life is the buffer nabber,
Even worse than the dicer stabber.