From the Omaha Daily Bee, July 28, 1913. By Arthur Chapman.
Ere Jones went on his prized vacation
He said, “I’ll need some books to read;
’Twill add unto my recreation
If I can scan a fiction screed.”
So to the phone soon Jones was turning,
And to the book store sent a call;
“For fiction,” quoth Jones, “I am yearning,
So send the new books—send them all.”
And so, next morn, ere Jones was leaving,
Two moving vans stopped at his door;
The driver asked, “Shall we be heaving
These books upon the lawn or floor?
There’s seven more loads on the way, sir—
Three motorcycle loads beside;
The fiction crop this year they say, sir,
Is heavy—that can’t be denied.”
And Jones rushed out and saw them carting
Love tales and “crook” yarns by the ton;
“Oh, what,” he cried with optics starting,
“Is this mad thing that I have done?”
And straightaway in a heap he tumbled—
The ambulance took him away—
But still the fiction order rumbled
Up to the Jones front door all day.
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