“Yours till Niagara Falls” or is it “Yours till the Statue of Liberty sits down?” Maybe it's “Yours till the United States drinks Canada Dry.” Could it be “Yours till they feed the corn on your toes to the calves of your legs?” No, that doesn't sound very nice. I know. It's “Yours till the barn dances and the fire escapes.”

Back in my childhood every girl had an autograph book. Some had a soft cover. Some had a hard cover. Some had a padded cover. Mine had a padded cover with white, pink and blue pages. It said “Autographs” written in a fancy script on the cover. I could hardly wait to take it to school. There was always the smart aleck, usually a boy, who wrote inside the back cover: “By hook, or by crook, I'm the last one to write in your book.”

“Policeman, policeman
Do your duty!
Here comes Rosie,
The American beauty!”

“It tickles me,
It makes me laugh
To think
You want my autograph.”

“Ha! Ha! Ha! I laugh with joy
'Cause I was here before Kilroy!”

“Tell me quick
Before I faint,
Is we friends
Or is we ain't?”

“If I were a head of lettuce,
I'd cut myself in two.
I'd give the leaves to all my friends
And save the heart for you.”

“Twinkle, twinkle little star,
Eyebrow pencil, cold cream jar,
Powder puff and lipstick, too.
Will make a beauty out of you.”

The American Beauty was a beautiful big red rose. We had one by our front porch. It was the preferred rose of the day. This was before hybrid roses.

Does anyone, except me, remember Kilroy? Before the joke got stale, there would be little drawings of Kilroy everywhere it seemed. Do you remember what he looked like? I do. I will sneak his picture into a future drawing. Beware! Kilroy was here!