The Ruler, a Bookbinders Poem
by Samuel O. Spaeth
Down by dot Hiccough ruling machine
Der bindery ruler stands.
Mit six days’ viskers on his face
Und ink all ofer his hands.
His disposition is calm and serene
To his feeder he iss nefer mean;
Broken lines his good nature can’t budge,
He simply shmile and say “O, fudge!”
Sometimes he vistles vonce a nice leetle song.
His feeder, mit shrill treble, helps him along;
Dhis moosic has such a distressing effec,
Der odhers all vish dot both vould verreck!
Und vhen he gets tired of living alone
He starts a leedle union of his own;
Vhen him and his feeder finally marry,
Von und von make two, leafing von to carry.
Vhen life’s chourney he at last passed through,
St. Peter asked, “Vhat best can you do?”
Der ruler reblied faintly, mit many sighs,
“Mit ink I can paint rain-bows on der skies.”
International Bookbinder, Vol.5, No.5, 1904, page 75