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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=357711" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Old Pete Parraday</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=357711" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Old Pete Paraday, his mind works very slow;<br>But, when it fastens on a thoughts, he will not let it go.<br>He measures it and mumbles it until an answer comes,<br>Just as he mumbles bits and scraps between his toothless gums.<br>'I likes to think a bit,' says he. 'An', thinkin', by and large<br>On these 'ere modrun fashions like, 'as fairly riz me garge.'</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=357711" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Old Pete Paraday, he thinks the joke is rich;<br>''Cen-TEN-ary! Cen-TEEN-ary!' Did ever you 'ear sich?<br>I never knowed the like,' says he: 'sich argymints as those.<br>The proper word is 'Century,' as any scholard knows.<br>An', when I makes my century, come seven year ahead,<br>I'll have you call it 'Century,' an' nothin' else instead.'</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=357711" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Old Pete Paraday, he cackles in high glee.<br>''Cen-TEN-ary! Cen-TEEN-ary!' Ho, lahdidah!' says he.<br>''Tis these 'ere modrun misses is to blame for all sich rot.<br>They paints their lips and plucks their brows an' thinks they knows a lot.<br>But I weren't hatched but yesterdee; an', sure as you're alive,<br>I knows,' says old Pete Paraday, 'how many beans make five.'</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=357711" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Says old Pete Paraday: 'I've thought it up an' down,<br>An' back an' front an' crossways, an' likewise roun' an' round'.<br>The proper word is 'Century,' an' means one hundred years.<br>'Cen-TEN-ary! Cen-TEEN-ARY!' They fair gits in yer ears!<br>So when I reach my century, you call it just that way;<br>An' none of your noo-fangled stuff,' says old Pete Paraday.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Clarence+Michael+James+Stanislaus+Dennis">Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis</a></strong></div>

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