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Never Despair
A religious and caring young woman
Stood curbside awaiting a cab.
A poor looking man stood quite near her
In clothing all tattered and drab.
Compassion immediately drew her
To show him a bit of good will.
She hadn’t brought very much money
Except for a one dollar bill.
She walked over to the lean creature
And pressed the note into his hand.
She leaned her head close and then whispered,
“Never despair, my good man.”
The next day she answered the doorbell
And there, she beheld the same guy
That she’d helped with the dollar donation
And her looked her quite square in the eye.
He held out his hand to the lady
And gave her a small stack of dough.
His actions made her quite befuddled
“What’s this,” she said, wanting to know.
“I took your advice, my dear lady
I’ve never had quite so much fun.
Yes, Never Despair was a long-shot,
But he came in at 40 to 1.”
Plentiful Supply
Jean was employed as a full census taker
And was making her rounds door to door.
She entered a flat on the lower East Side
That greatly shook her to the core.
She noticed that children quite filled up the place—
That’s virtually ceiling to floor.
When she looked through the doorway and into the back,
She saw at least eight or ten more.
“Well now, Mrs. Miller, just how many children
Have you and your husband produced?
I see, by your efforts in multiplication,
You’ve given our country a boost.”
The lady smiled broadly, which broadcast her pride,
And started right in to recite.
“There’s Abbie and Karen and Bobbie and Bill
Then Solomon, Frankie and Dwight
“Sarah, Theresa, and Megan and Suzie
and then triplets named Red, Fred, and Ned.”
Then Jean interrupted the lengthy roll call
And said, “Give me the number instead.”
“Why ma’am,” Mrs. Miller said back in surprise.
“We Millers don’t make fancy claims.
But none of our kids has been given a number—
We still ain’t yet run out of
names.”
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