From Rude Rural Rhymes by Bob Adams, New York: The Macmillan Company; 1925; pp. 78-79.
FAST TIME
O in the good old pre-war days,
Which all sane men delight to praise,
When Phœbus chased away the dark,
The farmer rose as did the lark.
Since legislative Jabberwocks
Began to tinker with the clocks
And strive, like Joshua, at will
To move the sun or hold it still,
He now must rise ere peeps are heard
From any self-respecting bird.
The gent who brings fresh milk to me
Was wont to start for town at three.
To pail that milk for you and John,
He had to quit the hay at one.
In his snug bed he might not tarry
For fear of kicks from Dick and Harry.
But now in summer, spring and fall
The milk man never sleeps at all,
For when he takes the townward track
He meets himself just coming back.
We view old Sol with grave alarm
When summer days are overwarm,
But when we ask what time it is,
[79]
That pie-faced planet is a whiz.
I’ll tell the world the job is his.
And so I dedicate a rhyme
To this there daylight-saving time.