Sullivan, H. V., engineer, and hard head as you live.
When he puts in his “sugar,” sure to get a div.
Sullivan, M. J., steamer engineer, in every port a “queen”;
Cuts a dash, makes a splash, everywhere he’s been.
Trouland, H. V., ex-soldier, would take your life at any time;
A desperate insurance agent, the subject of my rhyme
Webster, G. H., motor man, with an immaculate car;
Strike a match on the back of the seat, and you won’t know where you are
Weenink, H. V., stockman, turns the air quite blue,
“Addressing” a mob of cattle, he has but equals few.
Weenink, W. V., ex-soldier, with wicked eyes of brown;
The flappers are all a flutter, when he comes to town.
White, A. V., fireman, and if mayhap to hell he goes,
He’s sure to put the fire out, he’s a demon with the hose.
Williamson, J. W., steamer engineer, and hard man in the main;
He never forgets the password—it’s “Fill ’em up again!”
Winchester, H. V., carpenter, they say very quiet and shy;
But when he got the “glad” from a flapper naturally shut one eye.
