Buttoning

Buttoning.
133.4

John Jones lives with hi swife, also his sister and his mother:
He’s always at the beck and call of one or the other-
Buttoning, buttoning!
His fingers have been worn to bones, his finger nails to splinters-
He’s busy through the springs and falls, the summers and the win- ters,
Buttoning, bttoning!

His mother and his sister and his wife affect the fashion
Of using many buttons-and it drives Jones to a passion,
Buttoning, buttoning!
The buttons on their dresses these homeopathic trifles, are
And Jones oft thinks a wicked word -which instantly he stifles,
Butioning, buttoning!

His wife has eighty buttons, and his sister sixty-seven.
His mother ninety-five, and Jones may lose his chance of heaven,
Buttoning, buttoning!
He cannot read a book, or smoke; they always keep him busy,
And scold him for his clumsiness until he’s blind and dizzy.
Buttoning, buttoning!
John Jones once had the time to go and make his club a visit,
But when his wifey calls, “Oh, John,” he never asks, “What is it?”
Buttoning, buttoning!
At night he loses all the rest that should be fa his slumber-
He’s twitching with his fingers and is running over numbers,
Buttoning, buttoning!

They went to an old fashioned social Jones was happy-hearted,
Although they kept him working for two hours before they started,
Buttoning, buttoning!
Somebody said: “Let’s play ‘who’s got the button!”” Jones went frantie,
And now a trained nurse watches each demented act and antic-
Buttoning, buttoning! –
-St. Louis Republic.