From Rude Rural Rhymes by Bob Adams, New York: The Macmillan Company; 1925; pp. 159-162.
THE VEST COMES BACK
The days when I am feeling best
Are those on which I need a vest.
In summer noons I pant like Shep,
I have no gumption and no pep.
The African or colored gink,
He feels the heat much less I think,
But I am white, or leastwise pink.
I lie around to rest my bones
And feed my face with ice-cream cones,
I live on salads, fruits and slaw
And suck up soft drinks through a straw.
I cut no grass and saw no wood,
In short I am no gosh darn good.
But when fall comes and summer slumps,
I limber up and stir my stumps.
I seek, at sixteen Main Street west,
The shop wherein I pawned my vest,
And wrap the garment ’round my chest.
Behold the man both fat and swayback
Who cannot make his tummy stay back.
The thinner clothes in seasons torrid
Show up his plumpness something horrid.
In autumn still he runs to waist,
[162]
But all is decently incased.
E’en I, though fairly slim, look best
When in a sober waistcoat dressed.
My wife’s a frugal dame you know,
So now in old worn shirts I go,
Because the darns no longer show.
But I have pockets now, by jings,
That hold a lot of useful things,
And when I travel near or far
Upon the Lehigh choo-choo car,
With carefree heart I buy my ticket
And have a good safe place to stick it.