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On the Trail of Love
SPEAKIN' OF ARMS
I uster think that arms was made To jerk a bronk or throw a rope;
But now I knows such talk is what Them editors ear-mark as dope.
It's funny, but it seems these arms, Tho' long, don't over-reach a bit,
An' tho' she'd never tried 'em on, I jes' be cussed if they don't fit.
An' since I've met her things has changed, These arms won't stand fer such abuse
As fightin' bronks or ras'lin' calves, B'cause they's got a sweeter use.
An' all I has to say is this:
All future toil I surely shirk, Since fer these arms I've better use
Than mere degradin' common work.