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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=384966" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Says Mister Doojabs</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Well, eight months ago one clear cold day,<br>I took a ramble up Broadway,<br>And with my hands behind my back<br>I strolled along on the streetcar track—<br>(I walked on the track, for walking there<br>Gives one, I think, a distinguished air.)</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Well, all of a sudden I felt a jar<br>And I said, 'I’ll bet that’s a trolley car,'<br>And, sure enough, when I looked to see<br>I saw it had run right over me!<br>And my limbs and things were so scattered about<br>That for a moment I felt put out.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Well, the motorman was a nice young chap!<br>And he came right up and tipped his cap<br>And said, 'Beg pardon,' and was so kind<br>That his gentle manner soothed my mind:<br>Especially as he took such pains<br>To gather up my spilt remains.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Well, he found my arms and found my head,<br>And then, in a contrite voice, he said,<br>'Say, mister, I guess I’ll have to beg Your pardon,<br>I can’t find your left leg,'<br>And he would have wept, but I said,<br>'No! no! It doesn’t matter, just let it go.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Well, I went on home and on the way<br>I considered what my wife would say:<br>I knew she would have some sharp reply<br>If I let her know I was one leg shy,<br>So I thought, on the whole, ’twould be just as well<br>For my peace of mind if I didn’t tell.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Well, that was the first thing in my life<br>That I kept a secret from my wife.<br>And for eight long months I was in distress<br>To think that I didn’t dare confess,<br>And I’d probably still feel just that way<br>If it hadn’t come ’round to Christmas Day.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Well, in good old customs I still believe,<br>So I hung up my stocking Christmas Eve;<br>(A brand-new left one I’d never worn.)<br>And when I looked in it Christmas morn<br>There was my leg, as large as life,<br>With a ticket on it, 'From your wife.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Well, my wife had had it stored away<br>In cotton, since last Easter Day,<br>When she ran across it, quite by chance,<br>In the left hip-pocket of my pants;<br>And the only reproachful thing she said<br>Was, 'Look out or some day you’ll lose your head.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Ellis+Parker+Butler">Ellis Parker Butler</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=384966" data-title="Says Mister Doojabs de Ellis Parker Butler" data-description="Well, eight months ago one clear cold day,
I took a ramble up Broadway,
And with my hands behind my back
I strolled along on the streetcar track—
(I walked on the track, for walking there
Gives one, I think, a distinguished air.)

'Well, all of ..."></div>
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