(After Ben King, Dedicated to E. Jesse Conway.)
If I were City Editor
And you should come to my cold desk and choke,
And say, "Old man I'm actually dead broke."
I say, if I were City Editor,
And you should come in deepest grief and woe
And say, "Oh Lordy let me have the dough,"
I might arise with slow and solemn wink
And lecture you upon the curse of drink.
If I were City Editor
And you should come to my hotel and reel,
Clasping my beer to quench the thirst you feel,
I say if I were City Editor
And you should come in trembling and in fear
And even hint about licking up that beer,
I'd hit you just one swat, and then,
I guess I'd have to order one more bier.