" Pox upon thee, little fellow! Creep and fink with stripe of yellow. The gang you squealed on has the urge..."
But I...
"...to sing and strum your funeral dirge. In the drink you should have went, neatly cased in wet cement. Delinquincy can be a blight, when clods like YOU don't do it right....
...but
"...Seeing you I hate to think that I was once a "Lousy Fink!" THE END
I sure hope the guy who wrote this in Mad Magazine 50 years ago doesn't sue J.B.!
