Quotes from Eugene Field

What smells so? Has somebody been burning a Rag, or is there a Dead Mule in the Back yard? No, the Man is Smoking a Five-Cent Cigar.

A mighty good sausage stuffer was spoiled when the man became a poet.

But I, when I undress me Each night, upon my knees Will ask the Lord to bless me With apple-pie and cheese.