When “Ty” Cobb Comes To Town

Bill Brown, the undertaker, sat With a droop in his big blue eye, His collar wilted, tie askew, And his red face all awry. The beads of perspiration rolled And bathed him cheek and jowl; He fanned himself with palm leaf fan And mopped his face with a towel.

Bill Brown, the undertaker, sat, And into a smile broke he. He’d been some working “mon” that day; He’d had funerals twelve, you see. “Not common-like of common folks,” He said, and his laugh beguiled, “But Grandmas twelve of office boys.” Bill stopped, then broadly smiled.

Words and phrases in italics are surrounded by underscores, like this. Dialect, obsolete and misspelled words were not changed. Added unprinted hyphen to “so-and-so.”