My Room For Books And Study Or

I Take You And Pile High The Memories. Death Will Break Her Claws On Some I Keep.

Hog Butcher For The World, Tool Maker, Stacker Of Wheat, Player With Railroads And The Nation's Freight Handler; Stormy, Husky, Brawling, City Of Big Shoulders.

Drum On Your Drums, Batter On Your Banjos, Sob On The Long Cool Winding Saxophones. Go To It, O Jazzmen.

The Past Is A Bucket Of Ashes

For We Know When A Nation Goes Down And Never Comes Back, When A Society Or A Civilization Perishes, One Condition May Always Be Found. They Forgot Where They Came From. They Lost Sight Of What Brought Them Along.