CRINKLE, CRINKLE, LITTLE BILL.
Crinkle, crinkle, little bill; Goodness, gracious, you look ill! Are you losing all your power? You seem weaker hour hv hour. “Now that prices are so high. I'm so tired that I could die. I just circulate all day; No one dares put me away. "When the evening board is set With the fruits of father's sweat. My small voice is hushed and still— I jim in the butcher’s till. “And no matter where I go. People .lisregnrd me so; f don’t seem to count for much ’Mongst the profiteers and such." Bill, take heurt, your luck may change I’ll admit the times Jire strange. Though you’re weak. I love you still — Crinkle, crinkle, little bill. —“Chicago Tribune.”
Permanent link to this item
https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/periodicals/WHIRIB19200918.2.10
Bibliographic details
White Ribbon, Volume 26, Issue 303, 18 September 1920, Page 2
Word Count
122CRINKLE, CRINKLE, LITTLE BILL. White Ribbon, Volume 26, Issue 303, 18 September 1920, Page 2
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