Life — May 7, 1903 — page 14: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

The Golfer's ASK but Jittle when Tn dead for earthly woes No purple ri ly ask a well-rolled mead. With cighteen holes and putting-greens, yond my means— A caddy with a lynx-like eye, Shall watch me whack the balls, then tly on their airy trip Anil when L come on gentle wing He'll hand me then, the watehful soul, A putter fit for prince or king That's guaranteed to make the goal. MR. RUCKTON (the gentleman o es shall be the sort from whieh Irives two hundred yards at least, over hurdle, bunker, diteh Ils shall rise as though of yeast ; ‘The niblick, mash Shall never iiss or make While only those who § with all time when on earth, the folks Who say T cannot hit the ball; And best of all, the games between, When o'er my nectar Tam heard My triumphs to recount, I ween, There'll not be one to doubt my word. William Wallace Whitelock, the right) SAYS ME LIKES A SOCIAL GAME OF POKER AS RELAXATION AND REST PROM THE Canes AND WORRIES OF RUAINRSS. comicbooks.com