George, the Lard is Out
Dublin Core
Title
George, the Lard is Out
Creator
E.M.B.
Source
Volume 2, Number 1, Page 1
Publisher
Virginia Polytechnic Institute and State University
Date
August 1876
Contributor
Andrew Kulak, Andrew Wimbish
Rights
Permission to publish images from The Gray Jacket must be obtained from Special Collections, Virginia Tech.
Format
Text
Language
English
Type
Poem
Identifier
LD5655.V8 L4, ser.1, v.2, no.1 (August 1876), p.1
Coverage
Blacksburg, Virginia
Text Item Type Metadata
Text
When first we went to keeping house,
My little wife and I;
All that we wanted, that we had,
With plenty more laid by.
There is one tiling that worried me
And still goes very hard;
In the name of common sense what does
My wife do with the lard?
Last week I got enough I thought
To last a month no doubt,
To-day, she took me by surprise,
With, "George, the lard is out:"
One time I bought a dozen pounds,
And just a few days since,
I found prepared on my return,
A meal fit for a prince.
I said at once; "There's something up,"
"There's mischief in the wind,"
I thought "I'm right" when I observed
My wife so sweet and kind.
And when around my neck her arms,
She sweetly wound about,
I knew just what was coming next,
T'was, "George, the lard is out !"
And this is all that bothers me,
Indeed, 'tis very hard;
If I should sell all that I have
I'd still be out of lard.
My little wife and I;
All that we wanted, that we had,
With plenty more laid by.
There is one tiling that worried me
And still goes very hard;
In the name of common sense what does
My wife do with the lard?
Last week I got enough I thought
To last a month no doubt,
To-day, she took me by surprise,
With, "George, the lard is out:"
One time I bought a dozen pounds,
And just a few days since,
I found prepared on my return,
A meal fit for a prince.
I said at once; "There's something up,"
"There's mischief in the wind,"
I thought "I'm right" when I observed
My wife so sweet and kind.
And when around my neck her arms,
She sweetly wound about,
I knew just what was coming next,
T'was, "George, the lard is out !"
And this is all that bothers me,
Indeed, 'tis very hard;
If I should sell all that I have
I'd still be out of lard.