From the Perth Amboy Evening News, January 10, 1913. By Walt Mason. At 8 o’clock on New Year’s day, I heard Bill Wax, my neighbor, say: “This year will see me leave the hole In which I’ve long immersed my soul; That hole is Debt, and from its deeps I’ll drag myself, this time for keeps. My bank account must be enlarged; I’ll buy no goods and have them charged; Collectors won’t be on my track, Nor bailiffs camped around my shack. I’ll cut out porterhouse and pie, And pay for everything I buy, And when the year is growing gray I’ll have a bundle put away. This vow I surely won’t forget— I’m bound to take a fall from Debt!” For many years on New Year’s day Old William Wax has talked this way; He’s asked the gods to witness vows As rigid as the law allows, And for two weeks or maybe three Old Bill’s as righteous as can be. And then he sees a watch or gun He needs so bad! He has no mon, And so he has the blame thing chalked; And then, such weary roads he’s walked, He buys a horse to rest his frame, And gives his note—the same old game; And when the year is growing old The merchants clamor for their gold, And Bill’s afraid to go out doors To be run down by creditors. Alas for Bill! Alas for all Who have their backs against the wall, Their noses on the grinding stone, Because they can’t let Debt alone!