From the Rock Island Argus, October 17, 1912. By Duncan M. Smith. My pa he handles popcorn balls, And he sells peanuts, too, And lots of other things like that That make you want to chew. And sometimes I can go along And help him wait on trade, Especially if it’s a time He’s selling lemonade. My pa he fills his basket up, And he goes everywhere. When other people have to pay He walks right in the fair. Sometimes he lets me go along The gatemen they just grin And say when pa says, “That’s my kid,” “Just take him right on in.” My pa he has a lot of friends For everywhere he goes It seems that every one he meets Is some one that he knows. They chat with him a little while And then most always say, “I guess I’ll take some peanuts or A ball of corn today.” I’m awful sorry for the kids Whose fathers work in banks Or blacksmith shops or offices Or where they fill the tanks. They never get to go along, They must feel mighty bad. But I can go most anywhere, Because I help my dad.