THE BOOK WORM.
There's a fellow I'm terribly anxious to meet, Though he seems an Incurable case. I would like to assault every corn on his feet, And project squashy things in his face. I know nothing about him except that he writes With a pencil that'B smudgy and thick, But it's easy to picture him snoring at nights And brow-beating his wife till she's sick. He's the noodle who scrawls "Rubbish!" "Rot!" and "Oh, lor!" On the margins of library books by the score. Flapper: "Don't you speak to him any more?" Ditto: "No! Whenever I pass him I give him the geological survey." "Geological survey?" "Yes, that's what is commonly known as the stony stare."
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/CROMARG19310622.2.41
Bibliographic details
Cromwell Argus, Volume LXI, Issue 3168, 22 June 1931, Page 8
Word Count
117THE BOOK WORM. Cromwell Argus, Volume LXI, Issue 3168, 22 June 1931, Page 8
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