From The Seattle Star, October 14, 1912. By Berton Braley. I never can figure my bank account out, I’m always in trouble and always in doubt, And just when I think I have lots to go on The bank sends a notice—“account overdrawn.” I don’t understand it; I fuss and I fret, But I can’t make the bank “get me,” you bet. They point to their figures and I must remit, Although I can’t see any reason for it. I’m sure I am right in the balance I claim, But they make me come through when they ask, just the same. And they smile in a way condescending and bland, When I say that their system I can’t understand; For this is the puzzle my brain cells to vex— Why doesn’t my money keep pace with my checks?