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<h2>THE OLD ROLLER TOWEL</h2>
<p>How dear to this heart is the old roller towel<br/>
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which fond recollection presents to my view.</span><br/>
It hung like a pall on the wall of the washroom,<br/>
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And gathered the grime of the linotype crew.</span><br/>
The sink and the soap and the lye that stood by it<br/>
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Remain; but the towel is gone past recall.</span><br/>
O tempora! Also, O mores! Sic transit<br/>
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The time-honored towel that creaked on the wall.</span><br/>
The grimy old towel, the slimy old towel,<br/>
The tacky old towel that hung on the wall.</p>
<p>Now hangs in the washroom a huge roll of paper—<br/>
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The old printer’s towel we’ll never see more.</span><br/>
The new (see directions) is “used like a blotter,”<br/>
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And crumpled and scattered in wads on the floor.</span><br/>
And often, when drying my hands in this fashion,<br/>
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The tears of remembrance will gather and fall,</span><br/>
And I sigh (though I’m not what you’d call sentimental)<br/>
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For the classic old towel that propped up the wall.</span><br/>
The sainted old towel, the tainted old towel,<br/>
The gooey old towel that hung on the wall.</p>
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