THE GLOOMY BARD

H, Art Students, list close to me, >
| have a mournful tale for thee:
Eniay yourselves while yet ye may,
There's coming up a gloomy day.
The road to fame is sad and hard,
“A-know | am a gloomy bard,
- Experience taught me to be sad.
There was a time when | was glad.
| was a student within your walls,
Connected up with all the brawls,
Just bubbling o'er with girlish glee;
The staff did not appreciate me—
_A bad, bad end they did foresee
Would take me to Eternity.
But nothing yet has seemed to come
To switch me from beneath the sun.
I'm basking on old 'Frisco's shore;
There's starving artists here galore.
Outside each Art Director's door
| howl and heave and chant and moan.
And then | get him on the ‘phone.
Their hard hearts never give an inch,
So youse, who think it is a cinch
To step up to some hard boiled guy
And look him squarely in the eye
Until at last his hard heart bends
And much good paying work he sends
Out into your eager waiting hands;
Well you—you are the one that stands
A chance to get there very soon,
‘Cause confidence is sure a boon.
| seek not to discourage you,
And just because I'm feeling blue

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