From the Bisbee Daily Review, January 28, 1913. By Roy K. Moulton. My father says the paper somehow ain’t got up just right. He finds a lot of fault with it when he reads it at night. He says there ain’t a gol dum thing in it worth while to read, And that it doesn’t print the kind of stuff the people need. He tosses it aside and says it’s strictly “on the bum”— But you ought to hear the holler when the paper doesn’t come. He reads about the weddin’s and he snorts like all git out. He reads the social doin’s with a most derisive shout. He says they make the papers for the wimmen folks alone. He’ll read about the parties and he’ll fume and fret and groan; He says of information it does not contain a crumb But you ought to hear him holler when the paper doesn’t come. He’s always first to grab it and he reads it plumb clear through. He doesn’t miss an item or a want ad—that is true. He says, “They don’t know what we want, them durn newspaper guys; I’m goin’ to take a day some time and go and put ‘em wise. It sometimes seems as though they must be deaf and blind and dumb”— But you ought to hear him holler when the paper doesn’t come.