Page 168
By Jack Joseph Smith
Shuned
Now that in America
I know nothing but death
When I was in a foreign' PLACE
Every one died all the time
Money was slight enough
Crossing seas for beer
Those who have been there
are laughing when they read me
Those who have not,,
or pretended
I guess laugh also
I suppose hurt and trouble
should not be mixed up
But I think they should