Arthur Rodman’s “Jingles” Booklet-Pages 9-10

                    ACROSTIC

F is for Farmer, our very best friend,
A is the Auto, he knows how to mend;
R is for Riches he’s piling up high,
M is for Market on which he keeps eye,
E is for Early to bed he will go,
R is for Rustling, but not with a hoe;
S is for Seeds he will plant in the spring,

S for the Songs the big crops make him sing,
T is for Taking the money to bank,
A‘s our Acceptance, with many a thank,
T is for Talking of us to a friend;
E is for Eager to you we’re to lend.

B is our Bank, and we can not go wrong,
A is our Assets, they’re safe and they’re
          strong
N is for No you’ll not hear if you’re right,
K is for Kick if we don’t treat you right.

        FIFTIETH ANNIVERSARY
(Written for The First National Bank, of
          Elkhorn. Wis.)

Here’s a model banking plant.
Make ’em better? Simply can’t;
Best construction thru and thru,
Bedford stone, and marble, too

Nothing skimped from front to back,
Nothing modern do we lack.
Every comfort, every scheme–
Surely ’tis “The Banker’s Dream.”

Come and see our Ladies’ Room,
Fine enough for bride and groom,
Rest in here, a cozy place–
Wash your hands or primp your face.

In the rear’s a smoking den,
Big enough for twenty men,
Come in here and rest awhile,
And you’ll always get a smile.

Welcome, neighbors, young and old,
Come and join our growing fold,
There’s the old and here’s the new–
Dream of fifty years come true.

              ALL ABOARD

“All aboard!” We hear the cry,
Soon we’ll o’er the prairies fly;
Gently moving, now we’re off,
Hear the engine’s labored puff.

Slowly turning, every wheel,
Yet so smooth we scarcely feel;
Faster, faster, how we speed,
Like some live titanic steed.

Now we’re past the city’s bound,
And a brand new world we’ve found;
No more rows of squalid shacks
Backing up against the tracks;

Building twenty stories high,
Smoke obscuring sun and sky,
Every kind of noise on earth–
To these we give a widening berth.

Breathe that air, so fresh and fine,
Like some rare and magic wine;
Fleecy cloudlets up so high,
Like great snowbanks in the sky.

Golden corn so ripe and big–
Any ear would founder a pig;
Stacks and stacks of hay so fine,
Each big stack a perfect mine.

See that farmer’s home out there?
Dollar marks are everywhere;
House that’s modern thru and thru,
Corn cribs, barns, and silos, too.

Cattle grazing here and there,
Hogs and horses everywhere;
See the lambkins skip and run,
As they gambol in the sun.

See those rascal, rooting shoats,
And that herd of Nanny goats;
Chickens, ducks and guineas, too,
Why, this man must run a zoo.

See the golden autumn leaves,
Softly rustling in the breeze:
Soon they’ll change to darkest brown,
Then they’ll all come tumbling down.

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