presented to the
LIBRARY
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA • SAN DIEGO
by
FRIENDS OF THE LIBRARY
MR. JOHN C. ROSE
donor
)CJSAN. MONDAY MORNING, APRIL 9. 1894.
TO REST AT ST. JOE
Remains of Ben King Brought
Here on Their Way Home.
LIE AT THE PRESS CLUB.
Fer I live once agin in the long summer time.
And my soul it seems caught in old time s un-
And I'm driftin' agin down the "River St. Joe."
And tomorrow beside the "tranquil old
river St. Joe" he wrote so lovingly of Ben
King will be laid to rest.
OBITUARY RECORD.
, Abraham Strauss.
V — • — ^ n* „„ ^f »v.o firm nf Strauss. Yon-
A Great Throng of Friends Look
Upon His Face.
Two Bits of His Verse Showing He
Was Not Entirely Devoted to
the Humorous.
The remains of Ben Kin-, the humorist,
arrived at the Dearborn Street Statum
from Bowling Green, Ky., early yesterday
morning and were received at the d2pot by
a delegation from the Press Club.
The body was taken to Jordan's under
taking rooms, and at 1 o'clock p. m. was
removed to the Press Club rooms, where at
2:30 o'clock funeral services were held.
About 400 were present.
The service J were opened by the Imperial
Quartet's rendition of "Abide with Me."
Sev. Jenkin Lloyd Jones spoke of the taflu
ence exerted by the dead man, dwelling o
Devalue to the world of a sunny disposi
tion The quartet sang "Lead, Kindly
t," after which Leroy Armstrong
oe'on behalf of the Press Club Charies
Banks, on behalf of the Ground Hog Club
Charles Perkins, from the Whitechapel
Sub Earnest McGaff ney, John McGovjrn
John McEnnis, and others made short
speeches, and Colonel L. H. Ayme read
elUies by Captain Jack Crawford- and
Nixon Waterman. Rev. Dr. Davis, of the
Congregational Church of St. Joe, Mxch.,
delivered the funeral sermon.
The services were closed by the intona
tion of the Lord's Prayer by the Imperial
tributes were received from many
sources The handsomest pieces vver
f^om Bowling Green, H. W. Thearle of the „
Lyceum Bureau, and the Press Club of I
&N KING'S
VERSE
BEN KING'S VERSE
EDITED BY NIXON WATERMAN
With Introduction by John McGovern, and
Biography by Opie Read
Drawings Contributed by Chas. A. Gray, W. W. Denslow, H. G. Maratts
Hay Brown, F. Holmes, J. T. McCutcheon, Horace Taylor,
Win. Schmedtgen, T. E. Powers, and
Harry O. Landers
PUBLISHED BY
THE PRESS CLUB OF CHICAGO
1894
Copyright
ASENETH BELL KING
1894
PlfSS Of
.-1. B. i'\fo>se Co»ipan\
St.Jnsfpli. Mir/i.
SO FAR as we know, this young man, now so suddenly
dead, was the drollest mimic and gentlest humorist of our
region. He existed as the welcome and mirthful shadow of
conventional and tiresome things.
He began as the expositor of "The Maiden's Prayer" on
the piano, where each accented note was flat or sharp, and the
music flowed rapidly, or over great difficulties, as the score
might determine. He arose, and looking half-witted, recited
with unapproachable modest}- the stammering delight which he
would feel if he could be by Her ! He frowsled his hair and
became Paderewski, who forthwith fell upon the piano tooth
and nail, tore up the track, derailed the symphony, went down
stairs and shook the furnace, fainted at the pedals, and was
carried out rigid by supers — the greatest pianist of any age. He
wrote " If I Should Die Tonight " — a parody that was accepted
as the true original, the sun, the center of the great If-I-should-
die-tonight system of thought and poetry. He wrote the poet's
lament — that there was nothing to eat but food, and nowhere
to come but off. The artists of the newspaper world generously
sprang to his side ; they placed him pictorially before the
people, and determined, with almost prophetic spirit, that our
small circle should not alone dwell with undiminishing laughter
upon the gambols of Ben King. He was coldly, then not coldly,
then warmly received by the church fairs, the clubs, and the
Klks, where he got a supper — if any were left. At last he
8 INTRODUCTION
charged a small sum for appearing publicly and this sum was
rapidly enlarging and his fortune was in sight, when the hotel
porter found him dead in his room at Bowling Green, Kentucky.
During the years we knew him, he never spoke to us in a
disparaging way concerning any other person, and unless
Paderewski's comb was ruffled by Ben's exhibition of hair and
haste in piano playing, no parody, or perk, or prank of Ben
King ever depended for its success upon the wounding of
another creature's feelings.
We all accounted him a genius, and while we could not
guess what he would do next, we awaited his performances with
complacence, laughing as if we owned him and had ourselves
ordered his latest jcu rf' esprit.
We deplored the untimely moment of his end ; we held
beautiful, solemn and impressive memorial services over his
body, with music by the sweet singers whom he had loved
when he was alive, and touching words by ministers of the
gospel ; we buried him affectionately, as one who could least
be spared from our circle ; and as we were the witnesses of
what he did, we now charge ourselves to be the testimonies of
his rare talents.
Chicago, Oct. n, 1894.
JOHN McGovERN.
QENJAMIN FRANKLIN KING, JR. was born at St. Joseph,
D Michigan, March 17, 1857, a°d died at Bowling Green,
Kentucky, April 7, 1894. He was married Nov. 27, 1883 to
Aseneth Belle Latham, of St. Joseph, Michigan, by Professor
David Swing at his residence in Chicago. The wife and two
sons, Bennett Latham King, aged nine, and Spencer P. King,
aged five, survive him.
While yet a child, music came to Ben King as an inspira
tion. His infant fingers touched the keys of a piano and a
ripple of notes, strange and sweet, startled his parents into the
consciousness that a great talent had been given unto him.
How odd a boy he was — no one understood him. On the edge
of the marsh he would sit during hours at a time, under the
spell of the weird music amid the rushes. As he grew up,
lacking the instincts that make men successful in business, he
was pronounced a failure — not by those who had warmed them
selves in the glow of his poetic nature, but by the man who
believed that to turn over a dime and thereby to make a dollar
of it, was the most gracious faculty that could be bestowed upon
io BIOGRAPHY
a member of the human family. But when Ben King died, JSt.
Joseph became more widely known in one day than hundreds
of excursions and a thousand orchards had served to advertise
it in the past. On that April morning, people living in the far
East and the far West asked the question: "Where is St.
Joseph ? ' '
Ben King was not only a man of music ; he was a poet, a
gentle satirist and a humorist of the highest order. Even-
company was brightened by his coming, every man felt better
for having heard his quaint remarks. There was about him a
droll, a charming irresponsibility — a Thomas Hood from
Michigan.
I find, as I have found for the fiftieth time while striving to
write these lines, that I am still too much under the shock
caused by his death to write dispassionately of him. My judg
ment, the common sense that one should bring to bear upon
such a subject, is obscured by the vivid picture of an early
morning ; and down a dark hallway I still hear a violent knock
ing — and then comes a throbbing silence and out of that silence
comes an excited whisper — " Ben King is dead."
Chicago, October 9, 1894.
RKAD.
Frontispiece
Introduction
Biography
If I Should Die
Say When, and Say It .
Gittin' My Soul Inter Shape
Evolution
Gedder In Yo' Grain
Jane Jones
Elopement
Her Folks An' Hiz'n
The Yaller Jackets' Nest
How Hank Died
How Often
Benton Harbor, Mich. .
Asphodel
The Flower's Ball
De Sun's Comin' Back
The River St. Joe
The Robin and the Chicken
Baby Up at Battenberg's
4
7
9
17
18
19
20
22
23
25
26
28
30
31
32
34
35
38
39
40
12 CONTENTS
No Harm Done . • 42
The Pates ... 44
Paraphrase ... -45
If I Can Be By Her .... 47
Toboggan . . -49
De Bugle On De Hill . 51
Old St. Joe . ... -53
The Tramp ..... 55
The Chautauquan Maid . . 56
I'm a Bluejay .... 5&
'Rastus King . . . . . -59
That Valentine . . . 61
De Good Ship . . . .62
A Casual Observation ..... 63
Like the New Friends Best . . . .64
A Negro Song of Home .... 66
S'posin' ..... -67
Little 'Rasmus . .... 68
Nobody Knows ...... 70
She Does Not Hear . . . . . 71
Down the Mississippi . . . . .72
The Mermaid ...... 75
De Blackbird Fetch De Spring . . . .76
Appearances ...... 78
The Girl With the Jersey . . . . -79
If My Wife Taught School .... 80
The Old Spinning Wheel . . . . .81
The Owl and the Crow .... 82
De Clouds Am Gwine Ter Pass . . . .84
A Summer's Afternoon .... 86
I Fed the Fishes ...... 87
Ole Bossie Cow 8q
CONTENTS 13
That Cat ....... 90
A Frog's Thanksgiving .... 91
Lovey-Loves ....... 92
Hank Spink ...... 93
The Nile ....... 94
Like De Ole Mule Bes' .... 95
De Ribber Ob Life . . . . -97
The Cat O' Nine Tails ..... 99
The Hair-Tonic Bottle . . . . 101
De Circus Turkey ..... 102
Sofie Jakobowski ...... 104
Sunrise . . . . . . . 112
The Woodticks . . . . . 113
Didn't We, Jim? . . . . . 115
The Post-Driver . . . . . .117
Lef de Ole Hoss Out . . . . . 118
Ec-a-lec-tic Fits . . . . . 119
Keep Him a Baby ..... 121
Angeliny . . . . . . .123
De Eyarfquake . . . . . . 124
The Pessimist . . . . . .126
But Then ...... 127
Presque Isle . . . . . .129
Beulah Land . . . . . . 130
The Blackbird and the Thrush . . . .131
De Spring-House ..... 132
Under Obligations ...... 133
Cleopatra and Charmian .... 135
Pinkey ....... 137
Bung Town Canal ..... 140
De Massa ........ 142
Coonie In De Holler ..... 144
i4 CONTEXTS
After Weidenfeller Goes . . 145
Zaccheus . . 146
A Retrospection . .148
St. Patrick's Day 150
Injun Smmnah . . .151
'Cause It's Gittin' Spring . . 152
Decorate De Cabin . ... 153
The Ultimatum . . 154
Dreamy Days . . . . . 155
When the Stage Gits In ... 156
The Cultured Girl Again . . 157
De Cushville Hop . . 158
Gord Only Knows . . . . 159
Jes' Take My Advice . . 161
Patriotism and a Pension . . . . .162
The Old Musician's Fate . 164
A Record F'om 'Way Back .... 167
Thanksgibbin' in Ole Virginny . . . 169
Grave Matters . . . . . .170
Comin' Christmas Morn . . . . 171
Sad Fate of Yim Yonsen . . , . .174
Legend of the St. Joseph . . . . 176
Little Jude . .... 179
Little Pucken Singer . ... 180
Down in Walhallalah 181
Ben King's Verse
Ben King's Verse
IF I SHOULD DIE
If I should die tonight *
And you should come to my cold corpse and say,
Weeping and heartsick o'er my lifeless clay —
If I should die tonight,
And you should come in deepest grief and woe —
And say: " Here's that ten dollars that I owe,"
I might arise in my large, white cravat
And say, " What's thatl "
If I should die tonight
And you should come to my cold corpse and kneel,
Clasping my bier to show the grief you feel,
I say, if I should die tonight
And you should come to me, and there and then
Just even hint 'bout payin' me that ten,
I might arise the while
But I'd drop dead again.
SAY WHEN, AND SAY IT
Write me a poem that hasn't been writ.
Sing me a song that hasn't been sung yet,
String out a strain that hasn't been strung,
And ring me a chime that hasn't been rung yet.
Paint me a picture but leave out the paint,
Pile up a pile of old scenes of my schoolery,
Leave me alone ; I would fain meditate
And mourn o'er the moments I lost in tomfoolery.
Tell me a tale that dropped out of a star,
Push me a pun that is pungent, not earthy.
I must have something sharp, strident, and strong
To eke out a laugh or be moderately mirthy.
Give me a love that has never been loved,
Not knowing the glance of the bold and unwarv.
A cherub abreast with the saints up above,
And I'll get along and be passably merry.
But come on the fly to me, come on the jump,
Don't hang around on the outskirts and walk to me
Throw out your chest well, and hold up your head ;
Say when, and say it, or else don't you talk to me.
G1TT1N" MY SOUL INTER SHAPE
Reckon de angel what rolled 'way de stone,
An' let de good shepherd escape,
Some day '11 fly down to dis prison ob sin
An' lib'rate all dat's prepahed to come in ;
vSo I'se gittin' my soul inter shape,
Gittin my soul inter shape, fo' yo' see
Hit's a mighty big stone dat's layiii' on me,
Mighty big stone ! Yes, indeedy !
I hoj)e de good angel will hab heaps o' strength,
Or else bring old Sampson along,
Kase the sin on my soul's mo' 'en fo'ty foot deep
Yo' see, I bin one ob dese wanderin' sheep,
An" hit's gwine ter need somebody strong,
Gwine ter need somebody strong, doan yo' see ;
Hit's a mighty big weight dat's a restin' on me.
Pow'ful big weight ! Yes, indeedy !
I'se gittin' my soul inter shape fo' de day
When Peter 'gins takin' 'is toll ;
Readv ter lav down my burden an' rest,
Ready ter take up de cross ob de blest,
Ready ter eutah de fol'.
Gittin' my soul inter shape, (loan yo' see ;
Dar's a big load ob sin bin restin' on me,
Hig load ob sin ! Yes, indeed}' !
Yes, indeedv !
EVOLUTION
\Ve seem to exist in a hazardous time,
Driftin' along here through space ;
Nobody knows just when we begun
Or how fur we've gone in the race.
Scientists argy we're shot from the sun.
While others we're goin' right back.
An' some say we've aliens been here more or less,
An' seem to establish the fact.
O' course 'at's somepin' 'at nobody knows,
As far as I've read or cnn see ;
An' them as does know all about the hull scheme,
Why, none of 'em never agree.
Now, why I think it's a perilous time, —
What do we know 'bout them spots
I'p there on that glorious orb of the day ?
Smart men has argyed an' lots
Of the brainiest folks has been cypherin' out.
An' all sorts of stories has riz
.Bout what the sun's made of or how it's composed,
An' lots of 'em think that it is.
()' course 'at's somepin' 'at nobody knows —
Nobody under the sun ;
Nary a body or bein', I s'pose ;
Narv a bein' but One.
Take Kva Ivution, an' what does she say
' Bout how we all sprung from a ape ?
An' there's the goriller and big chimpanx.ee,
Patterned exactly our shape.
An' I've seen some folks, an' I guess so have you,
An' it ain't none of our bizness neither,
That actually looked like they sprung from a ape,
An' didn't have fur to spring either.
Course 'at's somepin 'at everyone knows ;
1 don't see how you folks can doubt it ;
S'posin' they have some resemblance to us.
No use in a-writin' about it.
If a feller '11 take a geology book
An' not go a rushin' long through it,
But jes' sort o' figger the thing out hisself —
What I mean is : 'ply hisself to it —
He'll see we've dug up folks ten thousand years old,
Built on a ponderous plan ;
Somehow this knocks Mr. Moses all out
An' Adam, the biblical man.
O' course 'at's somepin 'at nobody knows,
Nobody under the sun ;
Nary a body or bein' I s'pose,
Narv a bein' but One.
(iEDI)ER IN YO' (.RAIN
De ole plow boss is busy
Breshin' flies off wid his tail,
De ole dog's got a move on him
Dat's zackly like a snail.
De ineddeh grass is noddin'
En off yondah in de lane
I kin hyar de tree toads \varnin%
'Bettah gedder in yo' grain."
Doan yo' hyar de frogs a-gnrgliif
Dar out vondah in de pond ?
What's de inattah \vid de cat bird,
Doan yo' hvar his voice respond?
Ain't de hull of 'em a-tellin' yo'
In language mighty plain,
'Doan be frivlin' way vo' moments.
Kettab gedder in yo' grain."
Ain't de bumble bee a hummin'
'Mongst de clovah tops an' rlowahs.
Whilst de ole clock am a-tickiif 'way
De minutes an de lumalis?
Chile, yo's got to be a huslin'
To ketch de wisdom train.
Doan' waste no opportunities.
Hut gedder in yo' grain.
JANE JONES
Jane Jones keeps talkin' to me all the time
An' says, you must make it a rule
To studv your lessons 'ml work hard 'ml learn,
An' never be absent from school.
Remember the story of Klihu Hurritt,
An' ho\v he clum up to the top,
Got all the knowledge 'at he ever had
Down in a blacksmithing shop ?
Jane Jones she honestly said it was so,
Mebbe he did —
I dunno !
()' course what's a keepin' me 'way from the top.
Is not never havin' no blacksmithing shop.
She said 'at Hen Franklin was awfully poor,
I'ut full of ambition an' brains;
An' studied philosophy all his hull life.
An' see what he got for his pains !
He brought electricity out of the sky.
With a kite an' a bottle an' kev,
An' we're owing him niore'n anyone else
For all the bright lights 'at we see.
Jane Jones she honestlv said it was so !
Mebbe he did—
I dunno !
(")' course what's allers been hinderin' me
Is not havin' anv kite, lightning, er kev.
Jane Jones said Abe Lincoln had no books at all
An' used to split rails when a boy ;
An' General Grant was a tanner by trade
An' lived way out in Ill'nois.
So when the great war in the South first broke out
He stood on the side o' the right,
An' when Lincoln called him to take charge o% things,
He won nearly every blamed fight.
Jane Jones she honestly said it was so !
Mebbe he did —
I dunno !
Still I ain't to blame, not by a big sight,
For I ain't never had any battles to fight.
She said 'at Columbus was out at the knees
When he first thought up his big scheme,
An' told all the Spaniards 'ml Italians, too,
An' all of 'em said 'twas a dream.
But Oueen Isabella jest listened to him,
'Nd pawned all her jewels o' worth,
'Xd bought him the Santa Maria 'ml said,
"Go hunt up the rest o' the earth !"
Jane Jones she honestly said it was so !
Mebbe he did —
I dunno !
()' course that may be, but then you must allow
They ain't no land to discover jest now !
ELOPEMENT
I'm out at the home of my Mary,
Mary so young and so fair,
But her father and mother
And sister and brother
And all of the family are there.
I'm now on the sofa with Mary,
Mary with bright, golden hair ;
But her father and mother
And sister and brother
And all of the family are there.
I'm way up the river with Mary,
Picnicking in the cool air ;
But her father and mother
And sister and brother
And all of the family are there.
I'm in the surf bathing with Mary ;
Her form is beyond compare ;
But her father and mother
And sister and brother
And all of the family are there.
I'm down at the parson's with Mary ;
It's rather a private aifair ;
But her father and mother
And sister and brother
Well — none of the familv is there.
HER FOLKS A.V HIZ'N
He maird her cause she had money an1 some
Property left from 'er husband's income ;
Hut both of the families was awfully stirred,
An' said the worst things 'at the town ever heard.
En her folks an' hiz'n,
Er hiz'n an' her'n,
Never spoke to each other
From what I can learn.
His folks begun it an' jest said 'at she
Was the worst actin' thing they ever did see ;
An' ought to be ashamed fer bein' so bold.
Cause her husband he hadn't had time to get cold.
En her folks an' hiz'n,
Er hiz'n an' her'n,
Never spoke to each other
From what I can learn.
Her folks they all set up 'at he was no good,
An' if 'twasn't for her — well, he'd have to saw wood.
Then all of her kin, every blasted relation.
Said she'd lowered herself in their estimation. -
So her folks an hiz'n,
Er hiz'n an' her'n,
Never spoke to each other
From what I can learn.
The sisters the}- told — this is 'tween you and I —
'At they thought she wanted her husband to die ;
An' they whispered around — but don't you lisp a word-
The awfulest things that a soul ever heard.
IN' I!I'//\ 27
So her folks an' hi/.'n,
Kr hiz'n an' her'n,
Never spoke to each oilier
Prom what I can learn.
They said that a travelin' man, er a drummer,
Who stopped at the hotel a long time last summer.
That he — no it wasn't that now — let me see —
That she — er something like that seems to me.
Well, her folks an' hiz'n,
Er hiz'n an' her'n,
Never spoke to each other
From what I can learn.
I hear 'at the families keep up the old fight,
A roastin' each other from mornin' till night ;
But the young maird couple they've moved to the city,
Where gossip don't go ; but I think it a pity
That her folks an' hi/.'n,
An hi/.'n an' her'n,
Never speak to each other
From what I can learn.
THE YALLER JACKETS' NEST
I f I could only wander back
To boyhood jest one day,
So'st' I could have my chice agin
Of games we used to play,
I'd let the kites an' marbles go,
An' say, "Come on boys! let's
All go out a-huntin' fer
The yaller jackets' nest."
Jest to lay up in the shaclder
Of the fence once agin
Of the old vacant lot
'At the cows pastured in.
Where the dandelions were bloomin',
'X there take a rest,
While you listen to the music
'Round the yaller jackets' nest.
There was one 'at allers went along
An' romped with us 'n raced,
With her sun-bonnet a hangin' back
'X curls down to 'er waist.
In the checkered little frock she wore
Of gingham, — what a pest
She was to us when huntin' fer
The yaller jackets' nest.
777/i YALLER JACKETS NEST 29
It's the prime of the blossoms
'At's a-hangin' from the trees
An' the music of the bu/./.in'
'At brings lonesome memories,
Fer it seems as if I heerd her say
" You better look out, lest
They all swarm out and sting yeh
From the yaller jackets' nest."
Sometimes I think I hear 'er voice
An' see 'er eyes of blue,
That borried all their color from
The sky 'at peeks at you
Between the clouds in summer
After rain has fell an' blessed
The flowers an' openin" blossoms
'Round the yaller jackets' nest.
HOW HANK DIED
"Mother, the shadows are gather! n' in.
Shadows o' sunshine and shadows o' sin,
Shadows o' sorrow and shadows o' gloom.
All of 'em gatherin' now in my room.
See over there near the mantel-place wall
Is the darkest shadow. What's that— a call ?
Oh, let in the light, keep that shadow away,
The one with the sickle that cuts today.
And far over there in the sunlands' West
I'll work in the pastur after I rest."
"Oh, to get out o' this valley o' sin
Up in the cool o' the hillside agin !
Where are the boys? All away ? Where's M'liss?
Who's holdin' my hand, an' whose arm is this?
Oh, here comes the shadow that beckons — what pain ?
It must not come near me ! Hear that? That rain
On the windows? See, down by the foot-board, where
The curtain moves ! A shadow is there,
Comin' on tiptoe ! It's after the light.
Oh, don't give it welcome, that shadow of night !"
"Don't leave me waitin' here now in the dark,
The shadows are entering. What— music ? Hark ?
Can that be the soft winds of summer that send
Their sighs o'er the fields for the loss of a friend ?
So cold? I am getting so cold, so cold.
Oh. why are the shadows so bold, so bold?
Here comes the grim shadow, the shadow of death ;
The cavern-eyed shadow that asks for my breath."
'Good-bye," said the toiler; "good-bye every one."
Then somebody whispered: " The reaper is done."
His head fell back, and down by his side
His white hand dropped. That's how Hank died.
HOW OFTEN
They stood on the bridge at midnight,
In a park not far from town ;
They stood on the bridge at midnight
Because they didn't sit down.
The moon rose o'er the city
Behind the dark church spire ;
The moon rose o'er the city
And kept on rising higher.
I low often, oh! how often
They whispered words so soft ;
How often, oh! how often,
How often, oh ! how oft.
BFNTON HAKROK. \\\( \\.
Sometimes I ain't a thing to do an' so, jist for the nonce,
I think of things I didn't see out on Midway Plaisance.
Although they claimed 'at every tribe an' nation, seems to me,
Was represented, yit there's some I simply didn't see.
I went all throtigh the Cairo Street an' saw the Luxor great,
I saw the South Sea Islanders an' them from Congo State,
I saw the Patagonians, but, durn it all, my wish
Was more to see them funny folks from
Benton Harbor, Mich.
I took in all the bikini's that was prom'nent on the grounds.
Got in with a C'lumbian guard and we jist went the rounds.
I says to him, "I'm here this week to take the hull tiling in ;
I- might not git a chance to go against the thing agin.
Outside o' hortercnlture an' some o' the smaller fruits
I want to see them Wolverines at's still a-wearin' boots.
So don' show me no minin' er animals er fish,
I'd rather see them curios from
Benton Harbor, Mich."
What d' I care for foreign folks 'at come from pagan lands?
I've heerd an' read enough of Paig, an' heard the torn torn bands.
I've seen enough of Egypt, 'n Algiers, 'nd ancient Rome,
An' now I'm jist a-spilin' for somepiif right 'round home.
Why. gosh all Friday ! Take yer Turks an' all yer foreign kit,
I want to see them Wolverines, an' I ain't seen 'em yit ;
Old Michigan I'm after ; seems as if I heerd the swish
Of breakers like I used to in
Benton Harbor. Midi.
33
So coinin' out from there I says, "We'll take another route;
Course, you may know your bizness, but I know what I'm about.
I'm on a hunt fer friends jist now, not Japs er Javanese,
Or sore-eyed Esquimaux, er Coons, er bias-eyed Chinese.
I've heerd enough of 'Hot! hot! hot!' got frightened at the roar
'Round Hagenbeck's, an' shook hands with the sultan of Johore,
Until I'm simply tired out, an' now my only wish
Is jist to see them old-time folks from
Benton Harbor, Mich."
I \valked till I got dusty an' thought I'd like to wash,
When lookin' up I saw a tower — 'twas Michigan, by gosh !
"Come on," I says, "I'll show you now some folks you never saw,
Human bein's from Muskegon, Dowagiac, an' Saginaw ;
Them folks 'at raises celery way out in Kal'mazoo,
Cassopolis, an' Globeville, an' Ypsilanti, too —
St. Joe and Berrien Centre." I guess I got my wish,
I jined the jays an' we went back to
Benton Harbor, Mich.
ASPHODEL
Carest thou naught for me, lone Asphodel ?
Oh, flower ! Shall all the summer days long gone
Roll into space remembered not? What spell,
Nay, more, what dream, what fantasy is this?
E'en one small hour to gaze and love. 'Tis bliss
Like Gyges knew behind the chamlxjr door
In days of old. Those mellow days of yore.
Ah, no, sweet flower, say not farewell. I pray ;
Rut let thine odor loiter yet a while,
And linger thou beside my lonely way,
Spreading thy perfume. And each tender leaf,
Sparkling with dew, like tears in eyes of grief ;
Eager am I to pluck thee from thy stem,
To have thee near, and in thy fragrance dwell.
Trusting thee ever, fairy Asphodel,
THE FLOWERS' BAI.l.
There is an olden story,
'Tis a legend, so I'm told,
How the flowerets gave a banquet,
In the ivied days of old.
I low the posies gave a party once
That wound up with a ball,
How they held it in a valley,
Down in " Flowery Kingdom Hall.
The flowers of every clime were there.
Of high and low degree.
All with their petals polished,
In sweet aromatic glee.
They met down in this woodland
In the soft and ambient air.
Ivach in its lolling loveliness,
Exhaled a perfume rare.
An orchestra of Blue Hells
Sat upon a mossy knoll
And pealed forth gentle music
That quite captured every soul.
The Holly hocked a pistil
Just to buv a suit of clothes.
And danced with all the flowerets
Uni the modest, blushing Rose.
The Morning Glory shining
Seemed reflecting all the glow
Of dawn, and took a partner;
Jl \va.s young Miss .Mistletoe.
-: h'i.o\\ '/•: A'.V /; . / /. /,
Miss Maggie Nolia from the south
Danced with Forget-me-not ;
Sweet William took Miss Pink in tow
And danced a slow gavotte.
Thus everything went swimmingly
'Mongst perfumed belles and beaux,
And ever}' floweret reveled save
The modest, blushing Rose.
Miss Fuchsia sat around and told,
For floral emulation,
That she had actually refused
To dance with A Carnation.
The Coxcomb, quite a dandy there,
Began to pine and mope,
Until he had been introduced
To young Miss Heliotrope.
Sir Cactus took Miss Lily,
And he swung her so about
She asked Sweet Pea to Cauliflower
And put the Cactus out.
Miss Pansy took her Poppy
And she waltx.ed him down the line
Till they ran against old Sunflower
With Miss Honeysuckle Vine.
The others at the party that
Went whirling through the ma/.y
Were the Misses Rhodo Dendron.
Daffodil and little Daisy.
Miss Petunia, Miss Verbena, Violet,
And sweet Miss Dahlia
Came fashionably late, arrayed
In very rich regalia.
Miss Begonia, sweet Miss Buttercup,
Miss Lilac and Miss Clover;
Young Dandelion came in late
When all the feast was over.
37
The only flower that sent regrets
And really couldn't come,
Who lived in the four hundred, was
The vain Chrysanthemum.
One flowerlet at the table
Grew quite ill, we must regret,
And every posie wondered, too,
Just what Miss Mignonette.
Young Tulip chose Miss Orchid
From the first, and did not part
With her until Miss Mary Gold
Fell with a Bleeding Heart.
But ah ! Miss Rose sat pensively
Till every young bud passed her :
When just to fill the last quadrille,
The little China Aster.
Uh SUN'S COMIX' BACK
Hush ! chilluu, hush !
Kase de sun's done come back agin,
Back agin a shinin' on de ole cypress tree ;
Hush ! chillun, hush !
Hit shuahly am a fac' agin,
De sun's done come back agin.
Back agin to me.
Hush ! chilluu, hush !
Foil de sun's done come back agin,
Pushin' yaller glory rouu' in ebberv spot it finds,
Danciu' on de cradle
An' ole Chloe \vid de ladle.
An' coaxin' out de blossoms on
])e honeysuckle vines.
Hush ! chilluu, hush !
Kase de sof ' \viuds come back agin,
Back agin, a bringin' all de glory ob de spring ;
Mv heart's jes' a throbbin'
For off yondah is de robin.
An' de blackbird am a-cluckin'
An' I 'low I heenl 'iui sing.
Hush ! chilluu, hush !
Kase de sun's done come back agin,
1'riugin' back de fac' agin Fse gittin' mightv old
I often sit and pondah.
An' I wondah, an' I \vondah.
How many times it's comiu' back
Helb' I reach de fold.
THE KMVEK1 ST. JOE
Where the bumblebee sips and the clover is red,
And the zephyrs come laden with peachblow perfume,
Where the thistle-down pauses in search of the rose
And the myrtle and woodbine and wild ivy grows ;
Where the cat-bird pipes up and it sounds most divine
Off there in the branches of some lonely pine.
Oh, give me the spot that I once used to know
Uv the side of the placid old River St. Joe !
How oft on its banks 1 have sunk in a dream,
Where the willows bent over me kissing the stream —
My boat with its nose sort of resting on slioi-e,
\Vhile the cattails stood guarding a runaway oar —
It appeared like to me, that they sort of had some
Way of knowing that I would soon get overcome.
With the meadow lark singing just over the spot
I didn't care whether I floated or not —
Just resting out there for an hour or so
On the banks of the tranquil old River St. Joe.
Where the tall grasses nod at the close of the day,
And the sycamore's shadow is slanting away —
Where the whipporwill chants from a far distant limb
Just as if the whole business was all made for him.
Oh ! its now that niv thoughts, living back on the wings
Of the rail and the die-away song that he sings,
1 {rings the tears to my eves that drip off into rhvme
And 1 live once again in the old summer time,
1'or my soul it seems caught in old time's under-low
And I'm floating awav down the River St. Joe.
THE ROBIN AND THE CHICKEN
A plump little robin flew down from a tree,
To hunt for a worm which he happened to see.
A frisky young chicken came scampering by,
And ga/ed at the robin with wondering eye.
Said the chick, " What a queer looking chicken is that?
Its wings are so long and its body so fat ! "
While the robin remarked, loud enough to be heard,
' Dear me ! an exceedingly strange looking bird ! "
' Can you sing?" robin asked, and the chicken said, "No,"
But asked in his turn if the robin could crow.
So the bird sought a tree and the chicken a wall.
And each thought the other knew nothing at all.
BAHY UP AT BATTENBERG'S
Heerd 'bout what's happened ?
YVhv <>' course ye has ;
Baby up at Battenberg's,
Hope it tain't the las' !
Doctor come at eight o'clock,
Rig all spleshed with clay ;
Dad a trampin' up the hall,
Skeery? — I sh'd say !
Kind o' still 'rouu' the house,
Folks on tip-toe walk
Tell the door is open
An' we hear a squawk !
Doctor whispers suthin'.
Daddy hollers: " No! "
Doctor says " twelve pounder ! '
Daddy whoops out : " Sho ! "
Daddv — happier" n a clam !
Mother doin' well ;
Haby up at Battenberg's,
i laveii't ve been! tell ?
NO HARM DONE
Excuse me, Mr. Hand}-, for a droppin' you a line,
Hut the fact is, I've arrived in town and feeling mightv fine ;
I'm stoppin' at the Press Club, er that's where I take my meals.
An' I mus' say I'm agitatin' some colossal deals ;
But what I want to ask you is, 'at seems a botherin' me.
Is your hippodrome at Jackson Park, that's what I want to see ;
I'd lay all careful pains aside an' wear a steady grin
'F I thought 'at you could work some scheme
Of gittin' of me in.
Course, if you say the}- isn't,
I'll say I's just in fun,
And we'll just 1ft it go at that —
They's no harm done.
Say. Handy, what I want is so's I can push my phi/.
All round the hull World's l;air grounds an' see everything
they is,
An' when a C'lumbian guard comes up unmannerly an' gruff,
I'll flash the pass you give me, Handy, that'll be enough,
An' passin' on an' mirrorin' my face in the lagoon
Where that fellow is a standin'-now what's his name ?- Neptune.
1 want to see you, Major, yes, I want to grasp your fin.
Cause 1 know 'at you could work some scheme
Of gittin' of me in.
Course if you say they isn't.
I'll say I's just in fun,
And we'll just let it go at that —
Thev's no harm done.
I want Lo sec- the state bnildin's an' all ther' is there,
I \vant to see that queer machine that turns ont compressed air,
Th' Administration Imildin' an' the Agricultural hall —
I tell yon, Major, hones'ly. I want to see it all.
I'll be alone inos' of the time an' nothin's going to please
Me better than to get acquainted with those Javanese.
Don't say a word ! Say, Handy, I must brace yon agin :
Is they an}' possibility
Of gittin' of me in ?
Course if you say they isn't,
I'll say I's just in fun,
And we'll just let it go at that —
They's no harm done.
I've read the weekly papers, Major, out at old St Joe,
The}' ain't bin nothin' in 'em 'at the country folks don't know.
Some wants to see machinery, some paintin's, and some fish,
Some want to hear the music too, but I tell you my wish
Is just to see them foreign girls from Spain an' sunny France,
An' Abdul Something, what's-his-name, that's got them girls
'at dance
Out there in Midway Plaisance, an' the Sultan an' his kin.
Oil, Handy, you must fix some scheme
Of gittin' of me in.
Course, if you say they isn't,
I'll say I's just in fun.
And we'll just let it go at that —
Thev's no harm done.
THE FATES
Fortune came- to a youth one day and dressed 'iin
Up in liis best. While Society smiled and caressed 'iin,
Along came Toil with a hammer and saw to test Mm—
And all three pressed 'im.
Manhood came, as it usually does, to beard 'im ;
Virtue stole in and sat by his side, but feared 'im ;
Ambition came with wonderful schemes and steered 'im —
But all three queered 'im.
Wisdom came and knocked at his door ; he spurned 'iin.
Frivolity came on bicycle wheels and turned 'im ;
Remorse at last came up and stung 'im and burned 'im —
And all three churned 'im.
Poverty opened his door and found 'im and sought 'im ;
Paralvsis. crouched in a corner, had finally caught 'im ;
Idleness claimed the prize because she'd taught 'im —
Hut all three got Mm.
Old Charon rowed up in Time's canoe and ferried Mm
Over the creek, when an undertaker hurried Mm,
Dropped sand on his box, while a parson talked and worried Mm-
Hut the whole crowd buried Mm.
PARAPHRASE
The master of the manor house each morn
T'pou his shining' steed through arbored gates
Rides forth and out upon the dusty road
To yon small hamlet smiling on the hill.
At eve rides hack with swaying form ; he meets
The faithful footman and, his charger placed,
lie wends his way into the mansion hall.
While I, down here in meadow lands all day,
I only s-s-stack the hay.
The opulent lord when mellow days are come,
At the high note of red-combed chanticleer,
With horse and hound and merrv crowd now bent
rpon the chase. Swift through fox-scented roads,
Stopping, perchance, at many a wayside inn,
The music of the jingling glass is his,
While I down here in perfumed clover fields.
Hear but the music of the lark and jay. —
I only s-s-stack the hay.
Lone is the mansion on the sunlit hill,
Save for the daughter of the chivalric lord,
Who comes now, finger-kissed by high-topped sheaves
! Pausing the while, half startled by the quail ),
To where the haycocks dot the sallow fields ;
Comes in the roseate flush of maidenhood ;
Comes with a truant smile upon her lips.
And romping up to me exclaiming : " Say ! "-
H-b-biit I — I onlv s-s-stack the hav.
Then spake she soft as runs a summer brook
Or novel of some scribe of amorous mind :
'How far the huntsmen must be on the road,
Because the sun comes through my window-blind ;
Within — strange creakings 'bout the halls : without —
The scurrying leaves. So lonely am I now
I've wandered here to ask whate'er betide.
Wouldst cease thy work? I'ray, must you toil todav?"
'W-w-well, yes," I s-s-say, " I have t-t-to s-s-stack the
hay."
' Ah. sir ! " she then replied : "A banquet spread
But yesternight for me with many guests
And suitors gathered 'round the festal board
Sought ardently my hand ; and one forth brought
A golden cup in memory of my birth.
Yea, each in quest of all these lands. Kind sir.
How now ; wouldst thou not drink from out my cup ?
Prithee, come solace me! Live while you live, for aye."
' I c-c-ca-ca-can't," I s-s-say. " I have to s-s-stack the
hay."
The days roll on and now a blase' youth
Rides by the manor house. A reaper he
In wisdom's fields. No importuning maid
Bade him alight. She beckons. Quick he opes
The gates, and, hastening to the banquet halls,
He drinks to her, and, pledging endless love,
They fly to distant parish. Now the hills
And vales and lands that roll away are his.
While I, down here in meadow-lands all day,
I onlv s-s-stack the hav.
IF 1 CAN BE BY HHK
1 d-d-don't c-c-e-are how the r-r-r-obin sink's,
I'.r how the r-r-r-ooster f-f-flaps his wings,
J'!r whether 't sh-sh-shines, er whether 't pours.
Kr how high up the eagle s-s-soars.
If I can be h-he hy her.
1 don't care if the p-p-p-people s-say.
'At I'm weak-minded every-w-way.
An' n-n-never had no cuh-conimon sense,
I'd c-C-C-Cull-climb the highest p-picket fence
If I could b-b-b-be by her.
If I can be hv h-h-her. I'll s-s-swiin
'I'he r-r-r-est of life thro' th-th-thick an' thin ;
I'll throw my overcoat away,
An' s-s-s-stand out on tin- e-e-c-oldest dav,
I f I can b-b-b-bt- bv her.
You s-s-see sh-sh-she weighs an a\\ fid pile.
1',-b-b-but I d-d-d-don't care — sh-she's just in\r style,
.\n' any f-f-fool could p-p-p-lainly see
She'd look well b-b-b-bv the side of UK-,
If I could b-b-b-hi- bv her.
4S //<' / CAN HI'. 11 Y ///:A'
I b-b-b-braced right up, and had the s-s-s-and
To ask 'er f-f-f- father f-f-fer 'er hand ;
He said: "\Vh-wh-what p-p-prospects have you got?"
I said : "I gu-gu-guess I've got a lot,
If I can b-b-b-be by her."
It's all arranged f-f-fer Christinas da}-,
Fer then we're goin' to r-r-r-run away,
An' then s-s-soine th-th-thing that cn-cu-could'nt be
At all b-b-efore will then, yon s-s-see,
B-b-b-because I'll b-b-b-be by her.
TOBOGGAN
Down from the hills and over the snow-
Swift as a meteor's flash we go,
Toboggan ! Toboggan ! Toboggan !
Down from the hills with our senses lost,
Jealous of cheeks that are kissed by the frost,
Toboggan ! Toboggan ! Toboggan !
With snow piled high on housetop and hill,
O'er frozen rivulet river, and rill,
Clad in her jacket of sealskin fur,
Down from the hills I'm sliding with her,
Toboggan ! Toboggan ! Toboggan !
Down from the hills, what an awful speed !
As if on the back of a frightened steed,
Toboggan ! Toboggan ! Toboggan !
Down from the hills at the rise of the moon,
Merrily singing the toboggan tune,
"Toboggan ! Toboggan ! Toboggan ! "
Down from the hills like an arrow we fly,
Or a comet that whizzes along through the sky
Down from the hills ! Oh, isn't it grand !
Clasping your best winter girl by the hand,
Toboggan ! Toboggan ! Toboggan !
50
Down from the hills and both growing old.
Down from the hills we are Hearing the fold :
Toboggan ! Toboggan ! Toboggan !
Close to the homestead we hear the ring
Of children's voices that cheerily sing,
"Toboggan ! Toboggan ! Toboggan ! "
Down from the hills and we hear the chime
Of bells that are ringing out Old Father Time ;
Down from the hills we are riding away,
Nearing the life with its endless day ;
Toboggan ! Toboggan ! Toboggan !
DH BUCl.H ON !>H Hll.l.
I do;m like de noise oh dt marchin' ob de boys.
An' I 'low doan s'pose I evah will ;
Kr de tnunpin' ob de feel to de drum's wild beat,
Kr de sound ob de bugle on de bill.
Hit 'minds me ob de day when Gabe marched away
KM ole missus stood beside de cabin do';
Somepin whispahed in my ear 'bout my little volunteer.
An' sade he nevah will come back no mo'.
I 'membah now de day jes' how he marched away,
\Vid de bright sun er climbiif up de sky,
Marched out en down de street to de drum's wild beat,
Den dev fetched him home to die.
Oh. de sad en moanful way, po' ole missus kneeled ter
pray,
When (kibe sade : " Hit's gittin' mighty still."
lUit I rise en jine de boys when I hear de cannon's noise.
Kr de blowiif ob de bugle on de hill.
Hit 'pears es if 1 seen de ole plantation green,
Kn sometimes I sho'ly think I hear
De regiment pars by, en 'low I hear de cry
KM de moan ob my little volunteer.
Kn I see de moanful way po' ole missus kneel lo
Kn sometimes when all a'roun' is still,
I kin hear de tread ob feet to de drum's wild beat
KM de blowhf ob de bu'-le on de hill.
52 DE BUGLE OX DE HILL
Dar's a spot mighty dear to dis ole darky here,
Whar de sunlight is peepin' froo de palms,
Wid his hands 'pon his breast, dar my soldier's gone to
rest,
Jes' peacefully er sleepin' in de calms.
En de drum's wild heat er de tread ob marchin' feet
No mo' kain't disturb 'im now until
De Lord gibs command, den I know he'll rise en stand
At de sound ob de bugle on de hill.
OLD ST. JOE
Of all the towns that jest suits me
From Stevensville to Manistee,
There's one old place I can't fergit ;
It ain't a great ways off, and yit
From here it's sixty miles or so
In a bee line— that's Old St. Joe.
I don't p'tend to write, an' ain't
One of them air chaps 't paint ;
'F I was I'd tell of scenes 't lie
Stretched out afore a feller's eye ;
Kr when the sun was hangin' low
I'd paint it right from Old St. Joe.
I've seen folks gether thare in crowds
Jist fer to watch the golden clouds
Changin' shapes, and sort o' windin'
Into figgers, never mindin'
That old lake spread out below,
Reflectin' 'em at Old St. Joe.
Underneath them cedar trees
'S where I used to take my ease.
Hirds a-singin' all along
The hedge, 'an each one had a song
An' sung its best to let yon know
They jist got back to Old St. Joe.
'I'hev ain't no purtier silt- to me —
That is, 'cordin to mv idee —
Than jist to watch the gulls 'at flv
Round that old pier ; an' hear 'em rrv
An' circle round. II 'pears they know
I'ishin's good at ( )ld St. Joe.
Course tile people over there
The}' don't notice 'em or care —
What they're worrvin' 'bout is frost.
'N whether strawberries is lost ;
Vet they 'pear to take things slow,
Jist the same as ( )ld St. Joe.
'Ceptin' rheiiinati/., their health
Is middlin' good, an' as fer wealth
They got that, an' lots <>' land ;
'Course the sile is mixed 'ith sand ;
But that's what makes the berries grow
Over there at Old St. Joe.
Take it gener'ly, as a rule.
A feller likes it where it's cool.
Where he can sleep, an' drink in air
That conies perfumed from orchards where
The peach trees jist begin to blow ;
Then where's a place like Old St. Joe?
Such cool breeze blowin' back
Keeps the skeeters uiakin' tack
'N the flies they mostly stay
Tp round Pipestoue creek, they say.
Tell you what, one thing I know —
They ain't no flies on Old St. Joe.
THE TRAMP
He came from where he started
And was going where he went,
lie hadn't had a smell of food.
Not even had a scent.
He never even muttered once
Till he began to talk,
And when he left the kitchen door
He took the garden walk.
lie said : "There's no one with me,
Because I am alone ;
I might have scintillated once ;
My clothes have always shone.
I got here 'fore the other ones
Because I started first ;
The reason I look shabby is
Because I'm dressed the worst'"
Then I asked him where he came from-
This was just before we parted,
And he muttered .indistinctly,
" Oh, I come from where I started ! "
THE CHAOTAUQUAN MAID
She had studied every ology —
Ichthyology, zoology.
Philology, geology, conchology and more ;
Knew the bones of every mammal,
From the mouse up to the camel,
And the mollusks and crustaceans that crept on every shore.
To think her up in history
Was not at all a mystery ;
She could name you any ruler from old England to Sumatra.
It would certainly amaze you
What she said about Aspasia
And the little unsophisticated maiden, Cleopatra.
She had studied Greek and Latin,
Hebrew, Sanscrit ( please put that in ) ;
Read Xenophon and Horace, Ovid, Virgil and the rest.
She didn't say — •" I'll learn yuh,"
But teach you that Calphurnia
Sewed fifty-seven button holes in Julius Caesar's vest.
She loved to pull the petals
From a flower. The baser metals
She doted on their study, and for nuggets she would bone you.
She loved the dromedary,
And the docile cassowrary,
And the feathers of the emu she had stuck in her "chiffonier."
THE CHAi;TA('QUAN MAID 57
She had studied evolution.
And arrived at the solution
How long our first appendage was ; of course, I didn't ask her,
But she said that she'd resolved from
What she knew, that I evolved from
A carrot-haired chimpanzee she had seen in Madagascar.
She could scan iambic meter
And she knew each Roman praetor.
And surprised me when she told the way the empire came to fall.
The Huns sneaked in the forum,
And the Romans tried to floor 'em
But they got themselves in trouble, and, of course, got whipped,
bv Gaul.
I'M A Bl.fHJAY
I'm a bluejuy 'ml never mind
'!•" my toe does stick out behind.
When I ketch on a limb
I'm there for keeps —
'I,esn I let go.
Of course I must eat.
Sometimes, you know,
I have to jes' let go
()' that hind toe.
I'm a dead sure thing in spring.
As soon's the weather's kind o' warm
You'll notice me on a fence.
I feel immense
In my bine suit.
The woods can ketch my chirp ;
You hear my toot
r'rom then out T you don't shoot
At my blue suit.
I put ripe cherries in my face,
Same place I wedge all the bugs ;
An' don't you ever think
'At I'm no good
An' sponge my way.
Do I? I guess I'll fool vnh,
I eat yer durn " circnlia."
I guess I work my wav
' F I am a jay.
•RASTUS KINC;
As you happen jes' to mention
( )ld time friends 'at sort o' bring
Mcm'ries back, I'd like to ask
\\"hat's l)ecome o' 'Rastns King?
Did he go ()ut west prospectin'
1'ar on Californy's rim ?
hid he settle with the Injuns,
( )r did the Injuns settle him ?
What a great big-hearted feller
'Rastns \vas, and how he'd sing !
Sometimes tears '11 start to rollin'
When I think o' 'Rastus King.
Where is lie an' what's 'come of him?
Is he toilin' hard fer bread ?
Is he prosperous and wealthy ?
Is he livin' still, or dead?
How my heart recalls the mornin'
That I met him. Splittin' wood,
I'avin' fer his school tuition,
Karnin' thus a livelihood.
A Hers boarded at the neighbors,
Turned his hand at anything ;
Faithful, honest ; well the farmers
Simply swore by 'Rastus King.
6u
Find him down to nieetin' Sundays
Sittin' in the deacon's pew ;
Talk about yer knowledge ; he had
Read the Bible through and through.
When the choir would jine together
An' with the congregation sing,
Way above all other voices
Von could hear 'ini — 'Rastus King.
Did you ever come to meet 'im ?
Do you think he's livin' here?
Say, he ain't much older'n I am ;
Reckon now he's sixty vear.
Last I heerd he's doin' splendid,
Rich, fast horses, everything.
Jest like him, a regular schemer ;
Oh ! I knew him, 'Rastus King.
Then the hackman I'd been asking
All these questions thus did say :
' Rastus livin' purty quiet ;
Don't go out at all, they say."
' Don't go out at all — why stranger? "
" What's the matter? Did he fail ? "
' Well," said he, " nothin's the matter
Stephen, only he's in jail."
THAI VALENTINE
Once I remember years ago
I sent a tender valentine ;
I know it caused a deal of woe.
Once I remember years ago,
Her father's boots were large, yon know.
I do regret the hasty line.
Once I remember years ago
I sent a tender valentine.
I know I never can forget
I sent the tender valentine ;
Somehow or other I regret,
Hut how I never can forget,
Hut then, I know, I know I met
Her father, Oh, what grief was mine.
I know I never shall forget
I sent a tender valentine.
L)H GOOD SHIP
I'se l)in watchin' long '^r de Good Ship,
De (iood vShip de Lo'd sent ter me ;
An' it 'pears dat hit's had a long voyage
Crossin' life's troublesome sea.
I'se spected it 'long in de inoh'nin'.
When nary a sail was in sight,
An' I'se looked fer it 'long about noondav
'X watched fer it way in de night.
Till I cast my eye ovah de boun'less
Ole ocean, an' what did I see:1
Off dar in de hush ob de distance
De Good Ship a coinin' to me.
So I laid my haid down on my pillow,
Fo'gettin' life's worry an' sin ;
An' when I awoke in de moh'nin'.
Mv Good Ship had done got in.
A CASUAL OBSERVATION
Dar's nuffin' hyar but vanity
An' riches an' insanity ;
De dollah seems to be de people's god.
Dar's a heap too many 'Scariots
A ridin' 'roun' in chariots,
AVhile de po' man am a carryin' de hod.
Dar's too much haste an1 hurryin',
An' too much wealth at buiyin',
An' dis hyar t'ing am gettin' worse an' worse,
Hit takes all ob de rakin's,
De scrimpin's an de scrapin's
To liquidate de 'spenses ob de hearse.
Dar's heaps ob care an' worry ;
Kbbery body's in a hurry,
An' de few am growin' richer ebbery day ;
But de most of us must shovel
For de children in de hovel
An' silentby await de judgment day.
-
I.IKE THE NEW FRIENDS BEST
Don't talk to me o' old time friends.
But jes give me the new.
The old friends may be good enough,
But somehow they won't do.
I don't care for their old time ways ;
Their questions you'll allow
Are soulless as a parrot's gab : —
" Well, what you up to now? "
That's one thing I've agin 'em
'Cause that with all the rest,
Like hintin' 'bout some old time debt;
1 like my new friends best.
I meet an old friend in the street,
As oftentimes I do,
Mechanically he stops to shake
An' say : " Well, how are you ? "
Then drawin' down his face, as if
His cheeks was filled with lead,
He says : " I spose you've heard the news:
" No ! " "Kli Stubbs is dead.
An' 'fore he died he ast for you —
Seemed sorry you was gone,
An' said 'at what he'd let yon have
He hoped would help you on."
Now that's why I don't like 'em much.
You prob'bly might have guessed.
I aint got much agin' 'em. but
I like the new friends best.
6.5
Old friends are most too home-like now.
They know your age, and when
Von got expelled from school, and lots
Of other things, an' then
They 'member when 3-011 shivereed
The town an' broke the lights
(hit of the school 'nen run away
An' played " Hunt Cole " out nights.
The\- 'member when yon played around
Your dear old mommy's knee,
It's them can tell the verv date
That vou got on a spree.
I don't like to forget 'em, vet
If put right to the test
Of hankerin' right now for 'em
I like the new friends best.
A NEGRO SONG OF HO.Vlt
'Taint berry many people wal'll listen to a nii^ali
Un 'low (ley's eiiny sense in \vot he say,
Hut Ise <^\vine ter <,ruv de 's])erience of mail fec-lin's, and 1
figgah
Dat dey's quite a smart o' people tinks mail way.
Wen a man begins a-shoutin* 'bout de <food tings dat he's
missin'
Kickin' kase dey ain't a fortune in his job,
Let 'im go home to his kitchen, an' st-t down a while an'
listen
To de singin' ob de kettle on de hob.
I've hayrd de strains ob "Home, Sweet Home" when 1'atli
was a-singin'
An' de aujience was a-spilliif ob deir tears ;
But I didn't mind the shigah, fo' a different time kep' ringin'
Wif hits ha'nty kin' ob music in mall ears.
An' I reckerni/.ed de melerdy so powerful bewitchin'
Dat made mall heart like sixty fo' ter t'rob.
An' I mejiate fell a hank'rin' fo' my coxy little kitchen
An' de siugin' ob de kettle on de hob.
i)e rich man can inhabitate a palace ei he wishes,
\Vifbrick-er-brack and picluahs on de wall ;
An kin lay on velvet sofers an' eat ofFn golden dishes.
But I wouldn't swap niah kitchen fo' his all ;
!'o' hit wouldn't be like home ter me but 'ceptin' I could
listen
A puffin' at de backy in niah cob
While de good Lawd seemed a-speakin' ob a home-like- kin'
ol) bless' n
1 'rough de sin^m' ob de kettle on de hob.
S'POSIN'
AVlmt if the new San Francisco should sail
To Chilian waters away,
\Yith the Boston and Vorktown afar in the east
'Xd the Lancaster off in Bombay ;
'X~d the big Philadelphia — s'posin' she wu/.
A-loadin' with tea in Japan,
With the Concord and Bennington flyin' so gay
Their colors around Hindostan ;
'Xd s'posin' the Charleston wuz in Behring Sea,
\\'ith the Newark in Pamlico Sound,
'X"d the Miantonomah's big bilers should bust
'Xd the Baltimore run hard aground ;
Then s'posin' we got in a fight right away
With Chili or even Peru,
'Xd Kngland should work the shell game
York,
Sav — what in the deuce would we do?
LITTLE 'RASMUS
De Great Good Speret come down from above
An' took little 'Rasmus away ;
Took my leetle 'Rasmus dat played peep wid me.
En rode out to Banbury Cross on my knee,
Took po' leetle 'Rasmus away.
Took my little 'Rasmus dat played roun' de do'
An' danced at de sunbeams dat fell on de flo',
Took my leetle 'Rasmus away.
Dat's why Ise down-hearted an' kain't fin' relief.
An' ol' an' bent over ; Ise loaded with grief
Kase 'Rasmus has done gone away.
De Great Good Speret comes down from de sky
An hovahs aroun' ebbery day,
An hit 'pears what yo's lovin' a leetle too much,
De good speret takes it away.
Kase he took leetle 'Rasmus away.
But I knowde Good Speret mus' be mighty glnd
But dis darkey's heart am jes' mounful an' sad
Since 'Rasmus has done gone away.
An inos'ly at morn, when de whimperin' breeze
Am loiterin' up in de sycamore trees,
An' at noon when de sun dances roun' on de flo'
Dis ole darkey's heart am jes' burdened wid woe,
An' at night twixtde win' an' de patterin' rain,
My po' soul an' body am restless wid pain
Since 'Rasmus has done gone away.
UTTU<: ' kASMUS fie)
Rut I know de Good Speret comes down from de sky
An' hovahs aroun' ebbery day,
An' liit pears what yo' worship a leetle too much
De Good Speret takes it away,
Knse il took leetle 'Rasmus away —
Took po' leetle 'Rasmus away.
NOBODY KNOWS
Nobody knows when de col' winds am blowin'.
Whar all de po' little chilhin am a-goin'.
Nobody knows when de night time's hoverin'
How many little ones am des'tute ob coverin'.
Nobody sees but de Lo'd done see 'em,
An' bime-by de Lo'd '11 tell humanity ter free 'em.
Nobody knows jes' how many am in rags,
A-sleepin in de hot blocks an' 'roun' on de flags.
Nobody sees all dis poverty an' woe,
A-livin' on de emptyins an' not a place ter go.
Nobody sees but de Lo'd done see 'em.
An' bime-by de Lo'd '11 tell humanity ter free 'em.
Nobody knows whar dis poverty all comes —
How many po' folk am sleepin' in de slums.
Nobody knows jes' how few am befriendin'.
But de good Lo'd knows dar must soon be an endin'
Nobody sees but de Lo'd done see 'em,
An' bime-bv de Lo'd '11 tell humanitv ter free 'em.
SHE DOF.S NOT HF.AR
Sh-sh-sh-sh-she does not hear the r-r-r-r-robin sing,
Nor f-f-f-f-feel the b-b-b-b-balmy b-b-breath of Spring ;
Sh-sh-sh-she does not hear the p-p-peltitig rain
B-b-b-beat ta-ta-tat-t-t-toos on the w-w-winder p-p-pane.
Sh-sh-sh-she ciic-cuc-cannot see the Autumn s-s-sky,
Nor hear the wild geese s-s-s-stringing b-b-bv ;
And, oh ! how happy t-t-t-'tis to know
Sh-sh-she never f-f-feels an earthly woe !
I s-s-spoke to her ; sh-sh-she would not speak.
I knk-kuk-kuk-kissed her, but c-c-cold was her cheek.
I could not twine her w-w-w-wondrous hair —
It w-w-was so wonderf-f-f- fully rare.
B-b-beside her s-s-stands a v-v-v-vase of flowers,
A gilded cnc-cuc-cuc-clock that t-t-tells the hours ;
And even now the f-f-nre-light f-f-f-falls
On her, and d-d-dances on the walls.
Sh-sh-she's living in a p-p-pup-purer life.
Where there's no tu-tuh-turmoil and no strife ;
Xo t-t-t-tongiK- can ni-ni-ni-inock, no words embarrass
Her b-b-b-b-by g-g-gosh ! she's p-p-plaster paris !
DOWN THE MISSISSIPPI
Oh, de ole plantation lamlin'.
On de Mississippi sho'.
' Pears es if I seed ole niassa
Standin' waitin' dar once mo'—
Back aways to whar de cabin's
Almos' hid by lilac trees —
Seems es ef I h'yard po' missus
Singin' old-time melodies.
Hollyhocks en honeysuckles
Grow en bloom along de way.
Leadin' np dar to de cabin ;
But de ole folks, whar are dey ?
An' de winin' path a Icadin'
Ronn' de house ; sometimes a spell
Seems es ef I h'yard de win'less
H'istin' watah f'om de well.
Cap'n, kain yo' stop de boat, sail?
Stop de boat, kase well I know
I has done gone down dis rivah
'Bout es far's hi keah ter go.
You kin Ian' me soon's vo's ready,
En I 'low I'll fin' mah way
Back to dat ole shattah'd homestead
Whar de sun shines froo today.
Massa Lincoln's gunboats Iff it
Jais dat way in sixty-three ;
Cose <ley did some nionsns damage,
Hnl dev st-t us dahkies free.
llo\v I 'nienibah po' ole missus
Standin' n'vah de cabin do'
Kn she say : " Vo1 gwine off, 'Rasmus?
Ain' yo' gwine come back no mo' ? "
Den I sade : " Not x.ackly, missus ;
Somepin's done ketched ontah me.
Dar's a big stampede ob darkies
From Kaintnck en Tennessee.
When de boat comes up de ribbah
Whistlin' 'roun' de lower bow
I mus' leebe de ole plantation —
Yas, must say good-bye en go."
Massa so't o' bowed his haid, sah,
vSittin' in 'is ole ahm-chair ;
Missus, standin' on de do' step
Caught de sunlight in her hair ;
An' de breezes from de orchard
Teared to rustle froo de trees,
Kn 1 h'vard old Judy weepin'
\Vid de chillun roun' her knees.
74
Tale y<>' I was mighty sad, sah,
P>ul I sort o' walked away.
Years en years ago it was, sah ;
Now Ise wanderin' back todav.
'Deed Ise lookin' back en ga/.in'
Mos'ly now each side de stream.
Lan 'marks gittin' mighty natch'l.
'Clar hit 'pears jais like a dream.
Dar's de place ! Dat's hit, dar, cap'n.
His }-ere side ole ole ho'n bow ;
'Low yo' needn't stop de steamah ;
Jais slack up a leetle — slow.
•'•; * -T *
Dar's de same ole steps a-climbin'
F'om de landin' to de hill.
Lan' ob goodness ! Ef cle bushes
Aint a-growin' thickah still.
In de Ian' ob cle forgotten ;
Not a soul along de hill ;
Not a voice to wake yo' gladness ;
Everything do 'pear so still ;
Not an echo to a footstep ;
Not an ansah to a call
'Sep' a mockin'-bird a-singin'
To de lonesomeness — dat's all.
THh MhKMAID
Sweet inennaid of the incomparable eyes,
Surpassing glimpses of the April skies.
Thy form, ah, maid, of the billowy deep !
So rare and fair, but to possess I'd creep
Where the old octopus deep in his briny haunts
Comes forth to feed on anything he wants ;
Where mollusks crawl and cuttle-fish entwine,
There on crustaceans be content to dine.
What ecstasies in some calcareous valley,
Had I but scales like thee 'tis there we'd dally,
There seek each peak and let no other bliss
Be more enchanting, than one salt-sea kiss ;
There sit and bask in love, and sigh, and feel
Kach other's fins throb, or perhaps we'd steal
To some lone cavern. I suppose you know a
Place where we could pluck the poly/.oa,
Or in your boudoir by your mirror there
I'd comb the sea weed from your auburn hair.
Hut hush! A red-haired mermaid sister comes this way
And lashing with her tail the wavelets into spray.
Cometh she alone o'er yonder watery pampas?
i. )h, no. Hy Jove! There comes the white hippocampus.
DE BLACKBIRD FETCHED DE SPUING
When de autumn leabes was I \vislin'
An' a tryin' ter git loose
An' de apples in de cidah press
Had done turned inter juice ;
When de blackbird got down-hearted
An' made up his mind ter go,
Hit was den de time dis dahkey's heart
Was jes pahboiled wid woe.
lie was wid me in de furries
In de suminah fields ob co'n,
An' aroun" a hookiif cherries—
'Deed he was, mos' ebbery nio'n,
An' he he'p me dribe de horses,
Cluckt an' cluckt ter make 'em go.
Dai's whv 1 'low dis dahkey's heart
Was jes' pahboiled wid woe.
But he notice dat de yellerin'
Was a-coinin on de leahes,
An' de win' was so't o' whinin', too,
Jes' like a dog dat grebes,
An' wid nuffin' in de cherry tree
Kxceptin' wintah's bref,
One day in fall he 'lowed he'd go
En jes' skip out himself.
BLACKBIRD FETCHED DE SPRING
Hi kaiift persarsely blame 'iin,
Kase I'd went ef I was him ;
'Low he knew de winlah wedder
Would done free/.e 'iin to de limb.
Kase he couldn't ha'dly navigate,
Kr couldn't chick er sing,
Kn so he said : " Good-bye ole num.
ISL- comin' back in spring."
l)is niohnin', honey, 'deed I heerd,
When ebberyt'ing was calm,
A song dat tetched niah po' ole heart
Like oil of gladest balm.
An' who should I see settiif dar
Upon de ole hay rack,
But mail blackbird, shuah, niah blackbird,
An' 'e said, " Ise jes' got back."
Den he opened up his warble,
When de gentle winds so soft
Came dancin' from de hill-tops dar.
An' o'er de meddah croft.
An' down hyar by mail cabin do'
He sang an' flashed his wing,
An' I praised de Lo'cl of glory,
Kase my blackbird fetched de spring.
APPEARANCES
I)e man dat walls de slickest tile,
Doan draw de bikes' check ;
De riches' lookin' kin' ob sile
Doant yiel' de biggx-s' peek.
I)e boss dat'shighes' in de pool
Doan always win de race,
Kase sometimes he's a little off,
An' sometimes held fo' place.
De bulldog wid de orn'ry jaw
Ain' half so bad to meet
As dat dar yaller mungril cur
Dat's layin' for yo' meat.
De mooley cow dat hists her leg,
An' makes de milk maid scream,
Am jes' de bossie cow dat gives
De richest kiu' ob cream.
De mule dat hab de wicked eye
Ain' half so bad, now min' —
Look out for dat old sleep}' mule
Vo's walkin' rotin' behin'.
THE GIRL WITH THE JERSEY
You can sing of the maid
Who, in faultless attire,
Rides out in her curtained coupe;
Her robes are exquisitely fashioned by Worth —
At eve they are decollette;
But I, I will sing of a maiden more fair,
More innocent, too, I opine;
You can choose from society's crust, if you will,
But the girl with the jersey is mine.
I know her by all that is good, kind and true,
This modest young maiden I name;
I've walked with her, talked with her,
Danced with her, too,
And found that my heart was aflame;
I've written her letters, and small billet-doux,
Revealing my love in each line:
You can drink to your slim, satin-bodiced gazelle,
But the girl with the jersey is mine.
IK MY WIFE TAUCiHT SCHOOL
If I had a wife 'at taught school I would go
To far away countries. I'd fish from the Po
In a gondola gay and the splash of my oar
Would be heard by the natives around Singapore-.
If my wife taught school.
I would, wouldn't you?
Er wouldn't yuh ?
Knny way what would you do?
If I had a wife 'at taught school I would get
Something fine in the shape of a furniture set;
If I could pay my board and she could pay hern.
There's a good many nice little things I could earn.
If my wife taught school,
I would, wouldn't you ?
Er wouldn't yuh ?
Anyway what would vou do ?
If my wife taught school you can bet I would tly
Like a condor, I'd- roost pretty middlin' high;
I'd wear a silk tile and own hosses, I vow,
And do lots of things I ain't doin' now.
If my wife taught school
I would, wouldn't you ?
Er wouldn't yuh?
Anyway what would you do ?
If my wife taught school like some women do.
And I couldn't earn quite enough for us two,
I'd go in the barnyard, without any fuss,
I would blow out my brains with a big blunderbuss.
If my wife taught school,
I would, wouldn't you?
Er wouldn't yuh ? 4
Anvwav what would vou do?
THt 01.1) SPINNING WHEEL
Do you remember the old spinning wheel
That stood in the attic so many years ago,
'Twas covered o'er with dust, and our mother used to say
'Twas an old family relic of our grandmother's day."
How the spinning wheel would creak
As if it tried to speak,
Recalling tender memories of yore;
How back in other years
Her eyes would fill with tears
As she heard the hum upon the attic floor.
Creak, creak, how it would creak
When up to the attic we'd steal,
But mother would say:
"Boys, come away
From grandmother's old spinning wheel."
Do you remember the cobwebs that clung
To the old oaken beams in the house we were born,
And there from the rafters how memory brings
Back the sage and catnip and the dried apple strings.
But ah! no other joys
Compared, when we were boys,
When we played upon the dear old attic floor.
To slowly turn the wheel —
And the spindle and the reel
Would sing the dear old song it sang of yore.
Creak, creak, how it would creak,
When up to the attic we'd steal.
But mother would say:
•'Boys come away
From grandmother's old spinning wheel."
THE OWL AND THE CROW
There was an old owl
With eyes big and bright,
Who sung in a tree-top
One calm summer night.
And the song that he sung
I will now sing to you —
"To whit! To whoo, hoo!
To whit! To whoo, hoo!"
He sang there all night
Till early next morn,
When a crow came along
That was looking for corn.
The crow heard him singing
"To whit! To whoo, hoo!"
And offered to sing
A few notes that he knew.
Just then the old owl-
In the tree-top so high,
With his classical shape
And his big staring eye,
Requested the crow,
In the deepest of scorn,
To sing his old chestnut
About stealing corn.
82
THE OWL AND THE CROW 83
"Caw! Caw!" said the crow,
"Well — my deeds are by light.
I don't steal young chickens
And sit up all night,
With dew on my feathers;
When I break the laws
In looking through corn-fields
It's not without caws."
DE CLOUDS AM GWINE TER PASS
De wedder's mighty wauni.
An' I gase it'sgwine ter statin i.
Doan yo' see de swaller flyin' to de thatch?
Black clouds a sweepin' by,
Jes' a skimmin' long de sky,
Dar's a hustlin' in de huckleberry patch.
Dar's Zeke and Hezekiah,
Jane Ann an' ole Maria,
Mighty skeery when dey see de lightnin' flash.
How dey hustle to de cabin,
"\Yhar ole Dinah am a blabbin'
An de hoe cake am a bakin' in de ash.
I tole yo' kase I know,
Jes' what make it thundah so,
Dat's de way Gord shake de rain out ob de skv;
An' when yo' hyar de soun'
Like a shubbin" tables roun'
Yo' can see de pigs a runnin' to de sty.
But de clouds am gwine ter pass,
An' de sun shine out at las',
While de picaninnies play aroun' de do'
An' froo de windah blinds,
Hid by inornin' glory vines,
Hit's er gwine to flicker down upon de flo'
/>/•: ci.or/)s AM <v//v.\7: TI-:K PASS
(kml moves in many a way,
So de ole Bible say,
I'o1 he counts de drops and all de grains ob san';
An' when de darkness falls
Ton dese hyar cabin walls
Flit am jes' de break ob day in nddah lands.
1 )en hnrrv. chillun, hustle while you ina\ ,
Kase vo' know dar's gwine ter come a rainv day,
Rnt de gloomerin' will pass,
An' de sun shine ont at las'.
And dc darkies clouds ob sorrer pass away,
A SUMMER'S AFTERNOON.
'Twas the close of a summer's da}7,
The sound of the flail had died away,
The sun was shedding a lingering gleam
And the tea-kettle sung with its load of steam.
The old clock ticked that hung on the wall
And struck 'ith the same old cuckoo call;
Then oft I could hear the mournful bay
Of some watch -dog far away.
Then all ter onct piped in a jay.
I just sot there with my senses gone
And the shadders of twilight a creepin' on,
With the eerie hum of the small pee-wees,
Over there in the cedar trees,
And the tinkle of bells in the marshy loam
'At told me the cows were coming home,
And the sighing breeze came o'er the croft
But ah! comes a melody far more soft
Than the troubled notes of a lydian lute
Or the echoing strains of a fairy's flute;
It bids me awaken and live and rejoice,
'Tis only the sound of Elviry's voice —
Like an angel's whisper it comes to me: —
'Wake up, you fool, and come to tea."
An' it ain't in the spring er it ain't in the fall,
But the close of a summer's day,
That's all.
86
i FED THE FISHES
One day a big excursion sailed afar out in the lake
All bent upon an outing with their sandwiches and cake.
They sought the upper deck until the wind began to blow,
When all engaged in different things as every one must know;
While I fed the fishes,
I fed the fishes,
I fed the fishes clear to Old St. Joe.
Good Capt. Stines went up on deck to cast his weather eye;
A woman sadly, badly prayed — "Oh, Father, let me die!"
The cabin-boys ran back and forth in staterooms all around,
While voices shrieked: "Oh, mercy — oop! Oh — oop! wish I were
drowned."
But I fed the fishes,
I gave them my best wishes —
I fed the fishes clear to Old St. Joe.
The pilot boldly held the wheel as through the waves we sped,
While Purser Hancock ran abaft to hold some woman's head,
One fellow sat him down and sang: "Goodbye, sweetheart,
goodbye;"
Most every one seemed occupied and, sad to say, then I —
I fed the fishes,
I fed the fishes,
I fed the fishes clear to Old St. Joe.
The "Chicora" rose up in the air and then came down "ker-
sock ; ' '
She wibble-wobbled in the sea and once she struck a rock:
The purser wore a pallid look, the women all turned pale,
While calmly I sat out on deck and hung over the rail.
For I fed the fishes,
I gave them my best wishes,
I fed the fishes clear to Old St. Joe.
ss / /••/•:/> Tin-: n si IKS
Some trier! to eat their sandwiches, some staggered, reeled and
laughed,
While others went below to smile, and there the brown ale
quaffed.
The steward, Richard Waters, rushed about with whiskey slings;
Most even-one seemed occupied and all did different things.
IStit I fed the fishes,
I fed the fishes,
I fed the fishes clear to Old St. Joe.
OLE BOSSIE COW
Po' ole bossie cow's down in <le marsh,
Down in de marsh where de col' winds am blowin',
Eb'ry now an' den when de staum dies away
Seems if I hyard ole bossie cow a lowin'.
So out by <\e cabin do' I stan' on de sweep,
An' listen in de win' an' dampniif weddah,
An't pears dat I hear ole bossie cow agin,
An' 1 low dat she say — "Come down in de meddah.'
Den down iroo de marsh land trampin' along,
Down froo de gloom an' de night rains a-fallin',
Pirkin' my way through the whisperin' reeds,
"Co-boss, co-boss, co-boss" a-callin'.
Den all ob a sudden I come to a stop.
An' dar ole bossie cow so gentle an' so kyind ;
An' I coax up ole brindle, an' I lead her by de ho'n
A wee little bossie cow comes follerin' on behin',
A wee little bossie comes follerin' on behin'.
THAT CAT
The cat that conies to my window sill
When the moon looks cold and the night is still-
He comes in a frenzied state alone
With a tail that stands like a pine tree cone
And says : "I have finished my evening lark
And I think I can hear a hound dog bark.
My whiskers are froze 'nd stuck to my chin.
I do wish you'd git up and let me in."
That cat gits in.
But if in the solitude of the night
He doesn't appear to be feeling right.
And rises and stretches and seeks the floor
And some remote corner he would explore,
And doesn't feel satisfied just because
There's no good spot for to sharpen his claws,
And meows and canters uneasv about,
Beyond the least shadow of an}- doubt
That cat gits out.
••
A FROG'S THANKSGIVING
I'm a frog with a shanty built over each eye
And a terrible push when I get on a hump,
There's very few reptiles that's one-half so spry
Or can come up along side o' me on the jump.
I'm a frog when the other birds take to the wing
And wander away beneath balmier skies,
I belong to the bloated bachtracian ring
With a pneumatic palate for coaxing in flies.
I'm a frog in the fall and a frog when the frost
Spreads over the land, and the forests are gray.
I'm a frog keepin' house at a very small cost
In a dug-out I've built out o' cat tails and clay.
I'm a frog with a green overcoat and a voice
That tickles the woods, when the winter's no more.
The old folks are glad and children rejoice,
At the first tap o' thunder. I let out a roar,
I'm a frog living down in the lush of the swale
You all know my voice when I'm looting for game
They call me a cannibal : What a sad tale.
Well, may be I am ; I'm a frogjust the same.
LOVEY-LOVES
( )li, love, let us love with a love that loves,
Loving on with a love forever ;
For a love that loves not the love it should love —
1 wot such a love will sever.
Hut, when two loves love this lovable love.
Love loves with a love that is best ;
And this love-loving, lovable, love-lasting love
Loves on in pure love's loveliness.
( )h. chide not the love when its lovey-love loves
With lovable, loving caresses ;
For one feels that the lovingest love love can love.
Loves on in love's own lovelinesses.
And love, when it does love, in secret should love —
'Tis there where love most is admired ;
Hut the two lovey-loves that don't care where they love
Make the public most mightily tired.
HANK SPINK
Hank Spink he said — er Bol) did, his brother —
'At he hit a man once fer somepin or other,
An' after he hit 'iin — I got this from Bob —
He simply went right out an' give up his job ;
Not Hank er Bob,
Hut the feller 'at got hit
Give us his job.
See?
He said 'at the wind, er the force of his blow,
Ivr somepin like that ; somehow — I don't know
Just now what it was — I got it from Bob
'At he got a good swat ; not Hunk er Bob,
By a long shot.
But the feller 'at got hit
(iot a good swat.
See ?
He said he'd be blamed, 'at he didn't know
How he came to strike such an all-fired blow,
'Cept he guarded his right an' threw the hull heft
Of his weight an' his science, an' hit with his left ;
That lost 'iin his job; not Hank er Hob,
But the feller 'at got hit
I.ost him his job.
See ?
THE NILE
Not a single cloud bedims the sky,
Not a shadow falls below,
But crocodiles creep, enfeebled by heat
Through the lotus flowers that grow
On the banks of the Nile, the placid Nile,
The Nile of ages ago.
So sluggish and wan it wanders on
Where the citron and dhouni palms grow.
Where Sphinxes stare, through the lurid air,
At the sun in its molten glow ;
That's called the Nile, the tranquil Nile
Of ages and ages ago.
On the purple sheen of its mirror heart
Her galleys bend and row,
And Egypt's queen can still be seen,
Of olden lands the foe.
Ah ! this was the Nile, the ancient Nile,
The Nile of the long ago.
By the ashen banks of the ancient stream
The acacia tree bends low,
The ibis stands in this tomb of lands,
As if in a pallor of woe,
On the banks of the Nile, the sacred Nile,
The Nile of ages ago.
LIKE DE OLE MULE BES'
Some folks is so't o' pa'shal to de cattle roun' de fa'm,
Ter make a pet ob animals dey find hit so't ob balm,
While odders 'fer de poultry stock ; de goose, en duck, en hen
Is often made de mos' ob by de wisess kind ob men.
Some like de brindle mooley cow 'nd 'low dey hab de sense
Ter pear ter know dere niassa we'n dey see 'im at de fence.
Some like the yearlin' colt ; I've raly seed men stand aroun'
An' pet a hoss all day 'nd rub his legs en fetlocks down ;
But gibbin all de animals de faires' kind ob tes'
I so't o' like de ole mule bes'.
Some pet de mockin' bird en robin redbress' an' de linnit ;
Some like de gobler kase he's struttin' roun' mos' ebery minute.
Some like de peacock fo' his pride, an' den some like de dog,
Whilst odders fo' companionship have prefunce fo' de hog.
Some fa'mers like de wedder sheep, en some de little lam',
De billy-goat, an' nanny-goat, whilst odders 'fer de ram.
Some likede little week-ol' calf w'en buntin roun' hits mudder
An' some folks dey like one thing an' den some folks like
anudder ;
But 'fall de stock I'se raised wid in de Souf, erEas' er Wes'
I so't o' like de ole mule bes'.
Bars sompin' meekly 'bout 'im, hits de fac' he isn't bold
An' de spression on 'is face is like de holy saints ob old ;
When he sort o' histe 'is heel up like 's gwine ter hit de sky
He's simply exahcisin' jes ter pestervate a fly.
An' de why he 'pears embarrass'd is kase nature had ter fail
An' made 'im sort o' long on ears, en kind o' short on tail ;
But den he's mo den' 'tatched ter me, and know I is his frien'
An' we done made up our mind ter stick tergedder ter de end;
So dars no use ob yo' axin' me, yo's done had time ter guess
I so't o' like de ole mule bes'.
96 LIKE DE OLE MULE BES
I used ter like Lucindy, but den 'Cindy couldn't stay,
An' little Sim, I worshipped so, de angels coaxed away.
An' Lize Anne, an' br'er Zeph dere up dar on de hill,
I pa'shley think I hear 'em, too, w'en all aroun' is still ;
Yo' see Ise mo' den lonesome heah, wid nobody ter talk,
Er hide behin' de lilac trees adown de garden walk,
Dat w'en I look at dat ole mule I feel so full ob woe
'Bout little Sim 'at rode on 'im, an 'taint so long ago,
Ob all de frien's dat's lef me now, I 'raly mus" confess
I so't o' like de ole mule bes'.
DE RIBBER OB LIFE
I dreamt dat I saw de ribber ob life
Dat flows to de Jaspah Sea.
De angels war wadin' to an' fro
But none ob 'em spoke to me.
Some dipped dere wings in de silb'ry tide
Some war alone an' some side by side.
Nary a one dat I knew could I see
In dat ribber ob life.
De ribber ob life
Dat flows to de Jaspah Sea.
De ribber was wide, dat ribber ob life.
De bottom I plainly could see.
De stones layin' dar was whiter dan snow.
De sands looked like gold to me.
But angels kep' wadin' to and fro ;
Whar did dey come from ?
Whar did dey go ?
None ob 'em sinnahs like me, I kno'
In dat ribber ob life,
De ribber ob life,
Dat flows to de Jaspah Sea.
97
98 DE RIBBER OB LIFE
De watah was clear as de "well by de gate,
Whar Jesus de light first see.
De sofes' ob music Porn angel bands
Come ober dat ribber ob golden sands,
Come ober dat ribber to me.
An' den I saw de clouds break away,
Revealin' de pearly gates ob day.
De beautiful day dat nebber shall cease,
Where all is joy, an' lub, an' peace.
And ovah dem gates was written so clear :
' Peace to all who entah here."
De angels was gedderin' roun' de frone,
De gates done closed, I was lef alone,
Alone on de banks ob a darkenin' stream,
But when I awoke I foun' 'twas a dream.
Ise gwine to ford dat ribber ob life
An' see de eternal day.
Ise gwine to hear dem heavenly bands,
An' feel de tech of ole-time hands
Dat long hab passed away.
Dars crowns ob glory for all I'm told,
An' lubly harps wid strings ob gold.
An' I know ef dars peace beyond dat sea,
Wid res' fo' de weary, dars res' fo' me —
Beyond dat ribber, dat ribber ob life,
Dat flows to de Jaspah Sea.
THE CAT O' NINE TAILS
The old cat o' nine tails is coniin' round agin,
And the way he worries children sometimes is a sin ;
He grabs 'em by the collar, an' he yanks em by the clothes,
And reaches for a tender place. \Vhy; what do you suppose
Will happen if you're impident an' set around an' grin ?
Well, I'll have to call the cat o' nine tails in —
Have to call him in ; yes, have to call him in ;
in.
tails
cat o' nine
old
I'll have to call the old cat o' nine tails in.
old
cat o' nine
tails
Are you sassy to yer father, are you fibbin' to yer mother ?
Are you quarrelin' with yer sister an' a pinchin' of yer
brother,
Do you "ring around the rosey" till you have a dizzy feelin',
And you think yer goin' roun' an' ronri an' walkin' on the
ceilin' ?
Well, you better stop yer screechin' an' a-makin' such a din,
Er I'll have to call the old cat o' nine tails in —
Have to call him in ; yes, have to call him in ;
in.
tails
cat o' nine
old
I'll have to call the old cat o' nine tails in.
old
cat o' nine
tails
in.
99
THE CA T O' NINE TAILS
Do you allers mind your manners when company is come ?
Er do you git up-stairs 'nd yell, 'nd stomp around 'nd drum?
Do you show off at the table, too, 'nd try to act up smart,
'Nd p'intyer finger at the things 'ndsay : "Gimme a tart?"
If someone doesn't dress you down I think it is a sin ;
So I'll have to call the old cat o' nine tails in —
Have to call Mm in ; yes, have to call Mm in ;
in.
tails
cat o' nine
old
I'll have to call the old cat o' nine tails in.
old
cat o' nine
tails
in.
THE HAIR-TONIC BOTTLE
How dear to my heart is the old village drug store,
When tired and thirsty it conies to my view.
The wide spreading sign that asks you to "Try it,"
Vim, Vaseline, Vermifuge, Hop Bitters, too.
The old rusty stove and the cuspidore by it,
That little back room, Oh ! you've been there yourself
And oft-times have gone for the doctor's prescription,
But tackled the bottle that stood on the shelf.
The friendly old bottle,
The plain-labeled bottle,
The " Hair-Tonic " bottle that stood on the shelf.
How oft have I seized it with hands that were glowing,
And guzzled awhile ere I set off for home ;
I owned the whole earth all that night, but next morning
My head felt as big as the Capitol's dome.
And then how I hurried away to receive it,
The druggist would smile o'er his poisonous pelf,
And laugh as he poured out his unlicensed bitters.
And filled up the bottle that stood on the shelf.
The unlicensed bottle,
The plain-labeled bottle,
That "Hair-Tonic " bottle that stood on the shelf.
DE CIRCUS TURKEY
He's de worst I evah see,
Dat old turkey up'n de tree,
I bin pesta'n him 'n punchin' him saince mohnin',
I nev" saince I was bo'n
See de way he do stick on,
En he pears to look down at me 's if he scornin'.
He doesn't seem to 'pear
Ter hab a bit ob fear,
Kase Ise wasted all niah strength 'n bref upon 'im.
It may be he's in fun,
But I'll scah 'im wid dis gun,
Ise boun' ter git 'im down some way, dog on 'im.
Ise fro'd mos' all de sticks
In de yard, 'n all de bricks,
Ef yo' was me whut under d' sun 'ud yo' do?
He doesn' seem ter change,
'N 'pears ter act so strange,
I d'clar he in us' be pestah'd wid a hoodoo.
I tale yo' hits er fac'
I nearly broke mall back
Er histin' shoes 'n brick-bats up dar to 'im
'Pon dis Tanksgibbin' day.
•I hate ter shoot, but say —
I bleebe a gun's de only thing '11 do 'im.
I 'low I'll make 'im think
He kaint gib me de wink
An' sait up on dat limb en be secuah.
Biff! — ! Bang! — ! I'll make 'im sing ;
Mali goodness, watch im swing.
W'v he's a reg'lah circus turkey, suah.
DE CIRCUS TURKEY
Hi see de hull thing now —
Dat Rasmus boy, I 'low,
Has done gone tied 'is feet up dar wid strings.
No wondah dat he tried
Ter come off ; he was tied
'N all what he could do was flap 'is wings.
Come hyar yo' Rasmus, qtiick, sah ;
Ise min'ter use dis stick, sah !
Come hyar, from ovah dar, from whar yo' stood.
I low I ought to lay yo'
Down on dat groun' en flay yo',
Ise tempted mos' ter use a stick o' wood.
Yo' kaint go to de meetin',
An" w'en it comes ter eatin'
Yo' mudder sais yo' kaint come to de table.
I bet you'll sing er tune,
Kase all dis aftahnoon
We's 'cided dat we'll lock yo' in de stable.
Yo' kaint hab none de white meat,
An' yo' kaint hab none de brown meat,
An' yo' jes hearn whut yer po' ole mudder sade ;
Yo' kaint hab none de stuffin'
Er de cranber' sauce er nuffin',
An' 'cisely at 6 o'clock yo' go ter baid.
103
SOF1E JAKOBOWSKI
Little Sofie Jakobowski,
Handsome as a forest flower,
Dwelt alone with Gokstad Pfouski
Ivan Ruric Romano wski,
In the palace of the tower,
Of the ancient tower of Ivan,
Dwelt she in the long ago,
Near by where the frozen Volga
Sleeps beneath its weight of snow.
Now, it seems old Gokstad Pfouski
Ivan Ruric Romanowski
Had a passion for the maid,
And was very much afraid
That perhaps she might get frisky —
Fall in love with John Zobiesky ;
So he locked her in the tower
Oft for many a weary hour.
He, the old decrepit sinner,
Kept her locked up growing thinner,
Many a week and month she staid
In that tower, and often laid
Down to rest upon the cold
Marble floor, so I am told
By an old Slavonic story
That is gray and bald and hoary ;
'Tis a legend that's so weird
Soft winds gently comb its beard.
SOFIE JAKOBO WSKI 105
Little Sofie Jakobowski
Was the fairest of the fair ;
Eyes that seemed half way confessing,
Yet would keep you coldly guessing,
Hair that in each wavy fold
Tales of witchery unrolled—
Being that old Angelo
Traced in cloisters long ago ;
L,ips, those liquid lips whose dew
Is tinctured with the rose's hue ;
Cheeks afire with the glow
Of maidenhood ; a neck of snow,
Hoping, grieving, sighing, praying
For her lover, disobeying
When she dared old Gokstad Pfouski
Ivan Ruric Romanowski,
Even hoping to the end
For her little Polish friend.
Now, it might be said if any
Maid had lovers she had many ;
Old traditions name a score.
Put perhaps a dozen more
On the little maiden's list,
For her charms who could resist ?
She could bring them from Siberia,
Hindostan, or far-oft Syria,
From the Deutscher Zuyder Zee
To the rat-rice-fed Chinee.
There was little Moses Khan
From the village of Kasan,
Vadlimir, and Max Pulaski,
Peter Ulrich, and Hydrasky,
Isaac Ozam of Torique,
One Jim Bogado, a Greek,
And a soldier, Peter Hensky,
Of the noted Prebojens-ki ;
Kutusoff and Fedorovitch,
106 SOFIE JAKOBO U'SR'I
Little No Account von Storitch,
Seizendorf, and Jake Zebatzki,
Romanoff and Ruffonratzsky,
This is but the half of them —
Herr von Freitag Stobelpem,
And a Jew that sent her Rhine wine,
Moses Aaron Eiffel Einstein ;
He from Hong Kong, Sam Wing L,ee,
Drinkee Alice Samee Tea ;
Isawwiskey and Tschenhnsky,
Waronetski and Chewbimsky,
And two nase a yentlemen,
Yohn and Ole Petersen.
She could bring them, I presume,
From the far-off land of doom,
Each with one intent to woo her,
Ardent, doing homage to her,
Sending presents from Australia,
Nuggets from the Himalaya
Mountains, rings and souvenirs
Enough to last a hundred years ;
Arrows almost every hour
Carried presents to the tower.
Don't you think it quite a sin
They had to shoot their presents in ?
Think of how a despot's power
Kept her locked up in a towTer.
She the fairest little maiden
Dwelling on this side of Aiden ;
Wouldn't any lover plunge in
To the deepest Russian dungeon,
Or become a serf and work
Out his life at Nedjikerk
To kidnap from yonder tower
That sweet little Russian flower ?
So I would, so did the frisky
Nihilist, young John Zobiesky
SOFIE JAKOBO WSKI 107
Now the father of Zobiesky
Manufactured awful whisky,
But young John took more delight
In making bombs and dynamite,
And he entertained the Russians
With a series of concussions
Till they wanted him so bad
That it made all Russia sad.
Once I think he came not far
From blowing up "the only" czar,
But he had a most surprising
Way of hiding and disguising —
Never man as yet had found him,
Never army could surround him.
Probably he had a mascot —
Born a regular Russian Tascott.
John Zobiesky seemed contented
When he had them all fermented
'Round the palace. Near the gate
Cossack soldiers stood up straight,
Guarding with their guns and sabers
One another from their neighbors ;
Over there one can't resist
The thought to praise the nihilist.
Every day and every hour
You feel the despot's potent power ;
Every day you want to shoot
Some old potentate and scoot,
So with John. One day he saw
Another way to break the law,
Listen ! John was discontented,
And his smart brain soon invented
With saltpeter and corrosives
Something awful in explosives.
Then with heart chock full, elated,
Little John sat down and waited —
Waited for the sombre curtain
io8 SOFIE JAKOBO WSKI
Of the night to make him certain
That he might not be discovered
Or his hellish plans uncovered,
Waited till a cloudy pall
Hung its mantel over all,
And Stygian darkness reigning far
Hid each peeping, tell-tale star,
That lately had begun to nod
From Omsk to Nijni-Novgorod.
Then he stole up to that tower,
Just beneath his lady's bower.
Fearlessly he placed enough
Of that paralyzing stuff
In the chinks and the foundation
Of that tower to blast a nation.
Then he sat him down and wrote
Forty letters — make a note.
He wrote forty, understand,
Wrote them in a woman's hand.
"I love only — only you ;
Come tonight, sweet love. Adieu ! "
Signing with a heart aflame,
Sofie Jakobowski's name.
One dark night when all was still
On frosty turrent, dome and hill,
Forty suitors came in season,
Knocked, and — I don't know the reason-
Walked right in the door ; it swung
Open, then it closed and sprung ;
Every lover seemed to fare
The same, for they were prisoners there.
They were in beyond a doubt,
With no chance of getting out,
Now the risky John Zobiesky
Had the Cossacks drunk on whisky,
And the guards with their long sabers,
Rested sweetly from their labors.
SOFIE JAKOBO WSKI 109
Sofie Jakobowski, frisky
Looked down on her John Zobiesky ;
John Zobiesky gazed at Sofie
And he longed to gain the trophy.
Sofie, up there in the casement
Throwing kisses towards the basement —
John Zobiesky at the basement
Hurling kisses to the casement.
But he has no time to lose ;
Fixing up the deadly fuse,
Now he hurls a line up till
It reaches Sofie's window sill.
Scarcely had she made it fast
When the maiden stood aghast !
Startled at what stood before her —
John Zobiesky, her adorer.
Don't get anxious ; I must own
John and Sofie were alone.
And I know a Russian kiss
Is not such hard-frozen bliss.
'Twas the first in years that they
Had thus embraced — the time that way —
So they occupied the present
Till the night had grown senescent ;
And they wondered oft how fared
The lovers down below that shared
The palace of old Gokstad Pfouski
Ivan Ruric Romanowski.
•'Hark ! " cried Sofie, " 'tis the hour
When Moscow's bell in yonder tower
Peals a knell, and we must fly,
Or else together we must die.
Ah, look through yonder gate I see
That demon — and he comes to me —
The wretch that locks and keeps me here
From month to month and year to year.
1 10 SOFIE JAKOBO WSKI
Up jumps the risky little frisky
Nihilist, young John Zobiesky.
A kiss upon her lips, his hand
Upon his breast as if to brand
His vow : "You say 'he conies to me ; '
You cry : ' He comes ! He comes ! To thee
I swear by yonder moonlit snow
He conies !' Just watch and see him go."
Then with Sofie on his shoulder —
Never fear that he can't hold her —
Through the window down the rope,
The nihilist and maid elope.
Not a moment do they lose
Save to stop and light the fuse.
Slowly on its path it crawls
Toward the gray old castle walls,
Past the Cossacks with their sabers,
Still at rest from recent labors,
And the noble body guard —
They are snoring just as hard.
A flash ! A roar ! and Moscow rumbles,
And the tower of Ivan tumbles.
Up skyhigh went Godstad Pfouski
Ivan Ruric Romanowski,
Also little Moses Khan
Of the village of Kazan ;
Vadlimir and Max Pulaski,
Peter Ulric, and Hydraski ;
Isaac Ozam of Torique,
One Jim Bogado, a Greek,
And a soldier, Peter Henski,
Of the noted Prebojenski ;
Kutuseff and Fedorovitch,
Little No Account von Stovitch
Seizendorf and Jake Zebatzski,
Remanoff and Ruffonratzski,
This is but the half of them.
SO FIE JAKOBO WSK1
Herr von Freitag Stobelpem
And a Jew that sent her Rhine wine,
Moses Aaron Eiffel Einstein,
Drinkee Allee Saniee Tea —
He from Hong Kong — -Sam Wing Lee,
Isawwiskey and Tachenimski,
Waronetx.sk i and Chewbimsky,
And two nase a yentleinen,
Yohn and Ole Petersen.
The dim light to the sou 'ward
Is the beacon of the coast,
But the white light to the leeward
The mariner loves most.
And whether 'tis the dim light
Or the white light to the lee,
That great big hunk of daylight
Is light of lights for me.
But what it is of all lights
That fills mjr soul with glee,
Is when that hunk of daylight
Climbs up out of the sea.
THE WOODT1CKS
There's things out in the forest
That's worser 'an 'n owl,
'At gets on naughty boys 'n girls
'At allers wears a scowl.
There's things out in the forest
'At's worser 'n a lion,
'At gets on wicked boys 'n girls
'At's cjiiarrelin' an' a-cryin'.
There's things out in the forest, mind.
An' if you don't take care,
The wooclticks — the woodticks—
Will be crawlin' thro' yer hair.
An' they say as boys is naughty,
An' their hearts is full o' sin
They'll crawl out in the night time
An' get underneath yer skin,
An' the doctor '11 have to take a knife
An' cut 'em off jes' so,
An' if a bit of 'em is left
Another one '11 grow.
An' mebbe you won't feel 'em, too,
Ivr ever know they're there,
But by and by they'll multiply
And crawl up in yer hair.
ii4 THE WOODTICKS
The devil's darnin' needle, too,
'111 come and sew yer ear.
An' make a nest inside like that.
An' then you'll never hear ;
An' the jigger bugs gets on you,
An' the thousand-legged worm
'111 make you writhe, an' twist, an' groan,
An' cry, an' yell, an' squirm ;
But the worst things 'at '11 git you
If you lie, or steal, or swear,
Is the woodticks — the woodticks —
A crawlin' thro' yer hair.
DIDN'T WE. JIM?
Yes, sir ; we lived home till our mother died,
An' I'd go a-walkin' with Jim, 'cause he cried,
Till night time 'ud come, 'nd we'd go up to bed
An* bofe say the prayers 'at she taught us ter said —
Didn't we, Jim ?
An' pa 'ud stay late, an' we uster call,
'Cause we thought we heard 'im down stairs in the hall
An' when he come home once he fell on the floor,
An' we run'd an' hid behind ma's bedroom door —
Didn't we, Jim ?
She told us, our ma did, when she's sick in bed,
An' out of the Bible some verses read,
To never touch wine, and some more I can't think ;
Hut the last words she said was never to drink —
Didn't she, Jim ?
But our other ma, what our pa brought home there.
She whipped little Jim 'cause he stood on a chair
An' kissed our ma's picture that hung on the wall,
An' struck me fer not doin' nothin' at all —
Didn't she. Jim ?
.\"r /r7:\ JIMf
She said "at we never had no bringin* up,
An' stayed "round the house an' eat everything up,
An' said 'at we couldn't have no more to eat,
An' all 'at we 's fit for was out in the street —
Didn't she, Jim ?
We said 'at we hated her, didn't we, Jim ?
But our pa — well, we didn't say nothin' ter him,
But just took ma's picture and bofe run'd away ;
An' that's what Jim's cryin' 'bout out here today —
Didn't we, ain't it, Jim ?
Mister, don't feel bad — 'cause Jim's cryin' — too ;
Fer we're goin' ter hunt an' git somethin' ter do ;
'Cause our ma 'at died said ter work an' ter pray,
An' we'd all be together in glory some day —
Didn't she, Jim?
THE POST-DRIVER
The lingering loon flies over the marsh
And the night bird nestles in dew,
The river is cold and the winds are harsh,
But what is it that goes cnhchoo ?
What is it that goes cuhchoo, cuhchoo ?
Oh, what is it that goes cuhchoo ?
Then the rail comes up from his lushy bed
And wings to the realms of blue.
Wild lilies soak where the bullfrogs croak.
But what is it that goes cuhchoo ?
What is it that goes cuhchoo, cuhchoo ?
Oh, what is it that goes cuhchoo ?
O'er the whispering reeds the rice-hen speeds,
And the meadow-lark singing anew,
And I know in the swail the song of the rail,
But what is it that goes cuhchoo ?
What is it that goes cuhchoo, cuhchoo ?
Oh, what is it that goes cuhchoo?
LhF Ub OLh HObsS OUT
'Tween de gusts ob de win'
Conies a winner an' a soun'
Like de tranipin' ob hoofs on decol', col' groun'.
Ise 'spicious ob a stauni.
An' dere ain't no doubt
But somebody's gone an' lef de ole hoss out.
I 'membah now de sheep
Come a-runnin' to de shed,
An' de ole bossie cow was a-standin! in 'er bed,
An' de chickens on de roos';
But what was I 'bout
When I done went to bed an' lef de ole hoss out?
Well, I mus'n lay heah
An' hab de col' win's blow —
When de keyhole whistles dar's gwine ter come snow-
I jes* oughter 'rise
An' wandah right out,
An' cuah myself ob leebin' de ole hoss out.
Mali goodness, what er night !
Wondah what's dat soun' ?
Dat's de ole hoss, jes' coniin' on de boun'.
Ise ashame ob myse'f !
Well, what was I 'bout,
Ter go ter bed ter res' an' leebe de ole hoss out?
EC-A-LEC-TIC FITS
I'm only jes' a little chap
An' my ma says I'm frail ;
I got ec-a-lec-tic fits,
'At's why I'm lookin' pale.
Once I had a ague chill
An' oh, how I did shake
'Cause aunty wouldn't give me any
Jelly tarts an' cake.
Once when it was summer
Once, an' nice an' warm, nen me
An" Jennie went in our back yard
'Nd climbed a cherry tree.
An' she ate all the cherries, too,
An' fed me all the pits,
An' my ma said 'at's jes' what give
Me ec-a-lec-tic fits.
When bad girls comes to our house
They mustn't scare me, too,
An' romp up quick against me
Like they's playin' peek-a-boo,
Cause ma she'll say right out to 'em :
" See here, now children, quit !
I guess you'll have to run right home
'Fore YVadsworth has a fit."
119
EC-A-LEC-T/C FITS
Sometime I'll be strong 'nd well
An' big like Uncle Dan,
An' he'll be little jes' like me,
When I'm a grown-up man,
'Nd nen I won't be scarin' people
Almost out their wits,
'Cause 'en I won't go round a havin'
Ec-a-lec-tic fits.
When you see me turnin' blue
An' when my hands gits cold,
Don't you git afraid o' that.
But jes' you git a hold
Of me, an' rub my hands
'Nd rub my neck 'nd head
Till I "come out" — 'cause if you don't
I'm li'ble to git dead.
I wouldn't care if I should die
'Nd go up there, would you ? —
Where the sun is peekin' 'round
The clouds, up where it's blue ?
'Cause there they ain't no worry
An' they's lots o' little bits
Of fellers, an' they's none of 'em
Got ec-a-lec-tic fits.
KEEP HIM A BABY
Keep him a baby as long as you can ;
Bless him, the dear little, cute, cunning man !
Keep him in dresses, and apron, and bib ;
Rock him to sleep in his own little crib.
Keep him a baby enjoying his toys —
Soon enough he will be one of the boys ;
Keep him a baby and keep him at home —
Manhood will very soon cause him to roam.
Ofttimes at night when he wakes for a frolic,
Don't get excited— it's only the colic ;
When he has reason your slumbers to mar,
Get up and walk with him, just as you are.
First it is Winslow and then it is squills,
Then you will find one or two doctor's bills,
Though he's a trouble at times, it is true,
When he grows up he will take care of you.
KEK1> ///.I/ ./ r.AllY
Keep him a baby still taking his nap.
Don't you chastise him for any mishap ;
When he falls off of a sofa or chair.
Don't stop his crying by calling a bear.
Keep him a baby and do as I say :
Take him to ride in his carriage each day ;
Show him the bossie, the horse and the bow-wow
Soon you will hear him say "moo !" to the cow.
Keep him a baby : he'll soon be a boy,
Then he'll forsake every plaything and toy ;
Keep him a baby — he'll soon be a man,
Keep him a baby as long as you can.
ANGELINY
Come right hyar yo' Angeliny ;
Chile, yo' jes' gib me de blues,
What yo' doin' ? tryin' to try me ?
Warin' out deni bran new shoes,
Yase yo' is, 'deed yo' is,
Doan yo' dar talk back to me,
Kase I know yo' is.
Whar' yo' gwine to play dis tennis ?
Who yo' playin' tennis wid ?
Playin' wid dat Irish Dennis,
Well fo' yo', chile, dat yo's hid.
Come right squar out f'om dar,
Out Pom dar hin' dat dar bed ;
Now go combj'o' har.
Angeliny I Angeliny !
Doan yo' hyar me callin' yo' ?
Needn't tink dat yo' slip by me,
Min', gal, Ise daid on tali yo'.
Come right squar in f'om dar,
Yo' kaint play wid dem low white trash,
Now, my gal, see hyar.
Whar's yo' music edgecashnn ?
Git to dat piunnah dar,
Play dat lubly strabaganzah
Dat yo' calls de Maiden's Pra'r.
Laif a-libin', chile, do yo'
Want de folks in dis hyar neighbo'hood
Tink vo's Irish too?
DE EYARFQUAKE
De eyarfquake a shakin'
Jes' a short time ago
Was Belzabub a pullin'
Out de clinkers down below.
So yo' bettah drap yo' sinnin',
Kase ol' Satan he's a grinnin',
Bime-by de big saxaphone
Am shuahly gwine to blow.
Cose yo's laffin now,
Eekase it's mighty still.
Bime-by she gwine ter shake
Wid a pow'ful heavy chill ;
An' de ole bell in de towah
'S gwine to fall down wid de powah,
An' de millstones go dancin'
Ronn' de bottom ob de mill.
Some day dar's gwine ter open
De bigges' kin' of crack,
An' dis hyar coon's a hopin'
Dat de Lord won't hoi' yo' back,
'Speshly Jaspah Jones McClellan,
Yo's de one Ise bin a tellin'
'Bout de use of bad profanity
An' also plug terbac.
UK EYAKI-'QUAKE 125
'Fore de debbil shake
De furnace down agin,
Yo' bettah ask de Lord
To rid yo' ob yo' sin,
Kase when Satan wants some fuel
To warm up his brimstone gruel
He'll ope de furnace do'
An' de draf '11 suck yo' in.
Doan be loafin' now
An' shootin' craps arouif ;
Yo' bettah be a tryin' on
De white probashion gown ;
Fus' yo' know all ob a sudden
Mos' yo' coons '11 take to scuddin'
An' dose cushun feet
Dey'll tievah tech de groun'.
THE PESSIMIST
Nothing to do but work,
Nothing to eat but food,
Nothing to wear but clothes
To keep one from going nude.
Nothing to breathe but air
Quick as a flash 'tis gone ;
Nowhere to fall but off,
Nowhere to stand but on.
Nothing to comb but hair,
Nowhere to sleep but in bed,
Nothing to weep but tears,
Nothing to bury but dead.
Nothing losing but songs,
Ah, well, alas ! alack !
Nowhere to go but out,
Nowhere to come but back.
Nothing to see but sights,
Nothing to quench but thirst,
Nothing to have but what we've got
Thus thro' life we are cursed.
Nothing to strike but a gait ;
Everything moves that goes.
Nothing at all but common sense
Can ever withstand these woes.
126
BUT THHN
John Oswald MuGuffin he wanted to die
'Xd bring his career to an end ;
Of covirse, well — he didn't say nothin' to me —
But that's what he told every friend.
So one afternoon he went down to the pier,
'Xd folks saw him actin' most terribly queer ;
He prayed 'nd he sung, put his hand up to cough
,\n' ever}- one thought he was a-goin to jump off-
Hut he didn't.
Me may jump tomorrer
Mornin' at ten —
Said he w.'is goin t<>
Try it again —
Hut then.
John Oswald he said he was tired of the earth — •
Of its turmoil and struggle and strife —
'Nd he made up his mind a long, long time ago
He was just bound t' take his own life ;
'Xd the very next time 'at he started to shave,
Determined to die, he wus goin' t' be brave ;
So he stood up 'nd flourished the knife in despair
'Xd every one thought 'at he'd kill himself there —
Hut he didn't.
He says 'at tomorrer
Mornin' at ten
He has a notion l<>
Trv it again —
Hut then.
128 AY/7" THEN
He went and bought arsenic, bought paris green.
'Xd cobalt 'nd all kinds of stuff
'Nd he took great delight in leaving it 'round —
Of course that was done for a bluff —
Then he rigged up his room with a horrible thing,
That would blow his head off by pullin' a string.
Folks heard the explosion — rushed up — on his bed
John Oswald was lyin'. They whispered, "He's dead.
But lie wasn't.
He riz tip 'nd said :
Couldn't say when
He'd fully decide to
Try it again —
But then.
PKliSQUh 1S1.L:
How well I remember the day that 1 spent
On that far awav island where all is content ;
When sweet from the woodland, 'midst bramble and
brake,
The birds caroled on — it seemed just for our sake.
Oh, where on this orb is a spot that we feel
The rapture of loving as on the Presque Isle.
I laved in her looks and I bathed in her smiles,
Nor thought of the nook where the serpent beguiles ;
I watched the calm glow of her passionate cheek,
As in maidenhood only those blushes can speak.
IIo\v I ardently knelt at her feet to reveal,
The love that was born far away on Presque Isle.
When the stars had come out in the clear northern skies
They but beamed on my soul, ah ! less bright than her
eyes,
And I turned in despair from the orbs up above
To gaze in the eyes of an angel of love.
Our lips met, Oh ! why should we longer conceal
Our love on that rapturous, star-lit Presque Isle?
I'm still looking back on that island today,
But my lips they are mute — I have nothing to say,
Kxcept that my soul I claim as my own,
Tho' my soft auburn hair is all scatter'd and strovvn.
And after each cyclone in silence I kneel
And prav for an earthquake to sink the Presque Isle.
BEULAH LAND
Ober de ribber in Beulah Lan'
I)c lubly angels in white robes stan' ;
Dey beckon me <lar, I kin hyar de ban',
Ober <le ribber in Beulah Lan'.
Ober de ribber what sights I see !
Somebody Stan's dar a waitin' fer me ;
Stan's on de sho' ob de Jaspah Sea,
A callin' ; he says dars res' fo' me.
Ober de ribber I soon mus' go,
Weary ob waitin fro' all dis woe ;
An' when my journey is ended I know
Dat de Good Shepherd will open de do'.
Ober de ribber my soul takes wing,
De songs ob Zion I hyar 'em sing ;
When tuned to de harps how our voices will ring
Close roun' de frone ob de Hebenly King.
Ober de ribber dey beckon to me,
De ribber dat flows to de Jaspah Sea ;
Ober de ribber you all mus' know.
Dat de good shepherd will open de do'.
Den we'll shout glory an' praise 'im an' sing
'Long up de golden streets, how it will ring ;
Close to de Massa fo'evah we'll stan',
Ober de ribber in Beulah Lan'.
THE BLACKBIRD AND THE THRUSH
" It's my idee," a blackbird said,
As he sat in a mulberry bush,
" It's my idee it seems to me
I can warble as well as a thrush."
" Let 'er go, let 'er go," said a carrion crow,
As he swung on an old clothes-line,
" For I won't budge, but I'll act as judge
And the winner I'll ask to dine."
In a minor key the thrush sang he,
Way uj) in an elm remote,
And twice and thrice like paradise
Songs welled from the warbler's throat.
Then a rooster he, in his usual glee,
Flew up on the barnyard ience,
And lie crowed and he crowed ; then he said
" I'll be blowed
It that isn't simply immense."
Then the blackbird, well, he listened a spell
And began in garrulous run,
Hut he wasn't admired, for a farmer tired —
Well, he up and fired a gun.
Then the black crow said, as lie rested his head
" I want to go somewhere and die."
And a young cock-a-too said : " I do too,"
And a parrot said : " So do I."
DH SPRING-HOUSE
Down to de spring-house am whar I long to wandah —
De ole do' a creakin' as hit swings to en fro,
Down to de spring-house standin' ovah yonclah.
Standin' ovah vondnh in de long time ago.
Down by de spring-house de lilacs am a bloomiif ;
Holly-hocks a noddin' an' honey suckles thick.
Down by de spring-house I listen to de lowin';
An' reckon de ole brindle cow am wadin' up de creek.
Down by de spring-house once agin I'm walkin';
Vellah cream 'pon de shef, kaint let it be.
Down in de spring-house no use in talkin' —
Col' greens en hog-jole 's good enuff fo' me.
Down to de spring-house missus eomes a callin'
()!' hound's a bahkin an' massa 'gins ter shout.
Down in de spring-house what a catenvaulin —
Jals sort a waitin' fo' de niggah to come out.
Down by de spring-house blackbirds eat de cherry.
Wasp suck de honeysuckle, clovah feed fie bee.
Down in de spring-house niggah nevali worry —
Down in de spring-house am good enuff fo' me.
UNDER OBLIGATIONS
I notice dat de weddah's ratliah chilsome, mo' or less,
An' I notice dat de back-log so't o' crackles, Lor' bress ? —
Ole Crimp is on de tuhnpike an' de frost is on de faince
An' Sant" Clans '11 soon be hyah, so chillun, hab saince.
I seed 'iin on Ole Massa's ruff;, twar jais de oddah night,
Wid a span ol> balky reindyalis, bofe uni dapple gra}* an' white.
Dey war hitched to a inonsus lookin' alligatah sleigh.
An' filled wid gifts fo' de chillun, piled ebery which un way.
Hab any ob yo' chillnn bin a sinnin' ?
Or a sassin' yo' suppearyahs, or a griiinin' ?
Vo' bettah read yo' Bible 'bout ole Moses an' de laws,
Fob yo's undah obligashuns to Ole Santa Claus.
How many ob yo' chillun bin a tendin' to de church?
An' done made up yo' minds to leabe de debbil in de lurch,
Hab vo' tended nj) to Sunday-school, an' listen'd to yo'
teachah ?
Does yo' always drap a nickel in to try an' spote yo' preachah?
Am yo' wilful to yo' faddah or yo' muddah ?
Does yuli pestervate yo' sistah or yo' bruddah?
Yo' bettah change yo' tacticks cause, well, jess because
Vo's uudah obligashuns now in Ole Santa Claus.
'34
Kin yo' ansuah all dese questions dat yo' pastah has perftrd ?
Ef yo kaint, yo' bettah hang yo' haids en nevah say a word ;
Foh yo' pastah sort ob reckons dat de debbil's bin bo'n in yuh
An' when Ole Santa Claus comes roim' he'll surely be agin yo'.
So, ef any ob yo' chillun bin a sinnin'.
Or a sassin' yo' suppearyahs, or a grinnin',
Yo' bettah read yo' Bible, don't yo' hesitate or pause,
Kase yo's undah obligashuns to Ole Santa Claus.
CLEOPATRA AND CHARMIAN
I'm dying, yes, Charniian, dying,
I'm dying to stroll out awhile.
This eve we'll go down to the Cydnus
And scare up some old crocodile.
I swear by the Priests of Serapis
This Egypt just gives me the bines,
It seems that my onlv companions
Are crocodiles, storks, and emus.
I'm so melancholy and stupid.
Sweet maid should 1 drop in a do/.e,
I pray you loosen my sandals
And pull off these long silken hose.
Bring me the asp in the lattice box
That Tony caught down in the Nile.
Pinch up his tail with a small carob stick
And then let him wiggle awhile.
Last night my pet lion, Augustus,
Was howling for something to eat —
Why under the sun don't they feed him
That slave with the pigeon-toed feet ?
Today vou must polish those idols.
The buhl-headed idols — and more,
just see that those lubberly eunuchs
Don't spit on my porphry floor.
You're getting infernally la/.v
And looking so peeked and white.
See here, miss ! Does that jay from Memphis
Think you can sit up every night?
I36
I vow, I believe you're weak-minded,
Your brain seems to be in a whirl,
Next week I'll go down to Miletus
And look up a new hired girl.
Go bring me my old mother hubbard,
And also those Indian balms ;
Come, let us go down in the gai^lens
And bask 'neath those lovely dhoum palm*
Bring also my pearl brooch and necklace,
Dear, lazy old Ethiope girl !
Some wine of Ramesian vintage
I'll mix up a nectar of pearl.
We'll drink to Osiris and Isis
The great Sphinx of Theban renown,
Old Cheops, the father of pyramids,
The Ptolemies, then to the crown.
By Ptluih ! let us try the new poison
On some of our new Roman stock.
I'd like to tip over some pyramid
And give the old mummies a shock.
What's that? Who seeks for admission ?
Was that a fog horn I heard blow ?
Can Tony be Hearing the castle ?
Just look, Charmion dear, ere you go.
Have something good, dearie, for breakfast,
But you know what pleases me most —
Some pelican's eggs, a la Cairo,
And fried phenicopters on toast.
Remember about rising early.
Get up with the wagtail at four.
So smother the glim in the hallway.
And lock up the back kitchen door.
P1NKEY
I reckon \vint;ih's goin'.
It's rainin' 'sted of smnvin'.
1 taK- yo' dars no kno\vin'
Jes' \\har dis chile '11 go.
Might go to .Soul" Kyarlina,
An stuninah dar wid Dinah,
1 guess I'd cut a shine
Among de coons I know.
Den dars my good ol' massa
Way down in Tallahassie.
He ain't fo'got dis sassie
Chile dat used to sing.
De why he call me " Pinkey "
Was de colluh oh my crinky
Frock I wore so shrinky
When I use to dance de fling.
We gals out in de moonshine
Would dance de good ol' coonjine.
An' dreckly den we'd soon fin'
Dat missus heah de noise.
Den mighty quick she'd hurrv
Down dar all in a flurry.
An' fin' dis huckleberry
A dancin' fo' de boys.
An' den de way she'd take me,
An' lamd ob goodness, shake me !
Ol' missus raised an' brake me,
\<> wondah Isc- so good.
'38
()!' missus used to tell me
Dat like de cows she'd bell me,
Or else she'd done go sell me
To Yankees, Ise so rude.
I 'membah Rasmus Diddle,
As black as auntie's griddle ;
He used to play de fiddle,
An' feet ! umh ! a holy show.
An' dar was Luke an' Jaspah,
lAicindy, Jude an' Caspah,
Dat ignominyus, 'aspah-
Ratin', orn'ry lookin' moke.
Dat ol' cush-footed, cramp-back,
Dat essence ob ol' lamp-black,
Dat inside yih ! yih ! ob a smokestack,
Us gals we called 'im smoke.
An' dat new coon f'om Cuba,
Dat used to play de tuba,
He used to pat de juba,
\Yhile I dance de Mobile buck.
De ole banjo was a-pingin'
An' dat pink frock a swingin',
Dis yaller chile a wingin',
Jes' hoein' down fo' luck.
I ain't no Mobile niggah,
I cut no Mobile figgah,
Hut when yo' pull de triggah
Vo' pestah dese heah shoes.
An' when de fiddle's scrapin',
Dars too much music scapin',
Ise got to git to shapin'
Mvself or <rit de blues.
Yo' wondah <lat Ise weary
I;ro all dese days so dreary,
Dar ain't one finjj dat's cheery
'Bout Shcawgo life fo' me.
Dat's de raison dat 1st- jjoin'.
Jes' as soon '/.it quits a-snowili',
An' de'col' win' stops a-blowin,
Rack to ol' Kyarlina State.
Bar de ivy am a creepin';
Whar my po' ol' muddah's sleepin',
Missus — 'sense me kase Ise weepin'
Seems as if I couldn't wait.
THE BUNG TOWN CANAI.
Do you remember Tom, Billy, and Sal.
The old swimmin' days in the Bungtown canal?
The big millin' logs fast asleep on its banks,
We used to jump off of and cut up odd pranks
In our tropical costume. We used to make Sal
Go home when we swum in the Bung Town Canal.
I never'll forget it an' 'tween yon an' me,
You 'member the place where the mill uster be?
We had a long spring-board out there' n we'd scud
An' jist go head foremost clean inter the mud.
I may fergit some things, but I never shall
Fergit them old times 'round the Bung Town Canal.
Nobody need never say nothin' to me
'Bout the Blue Danube River er banks of the Dee,
They can't perduce sights like some 'at I've seen
Crawlin' up on its banks and off in the green
Old marsh where the scum and malarier are
'S the pizenest things in the world out in there.
Me an' John Price caught the gol blamedest thing,
With six legs 'n four fins 'n a valler-jack sting,
Two eyes in its head an' two horns in its tail,
An' it carried a shell on its back like a snail,
So we tuck it home an' skeer'd mother an' Sal
'Ith what we fished out of the Bung Town Canal.
Once they's a stranger 'at jest took a drink
From the Bung Town Canal, an' course he didn't think
What he was doin', an' after awhile
He went an' turned yeller, as yeller as bile,
So doctors all went to perscribin' fer him,
Makin' his chances a blamed sight more slim.
THE lU'NC TOWN CANAL \\\
What they all said was that he had a siiaik
Way down in his stummick an' he better take
One or two whiskeys Tore eatin' each meal,
Then in a week er two inebbe he'd feel
Better. So natcherly he tuck to drink,
Usin' rye whiskey 'bout three months, I think.
Course havin' snaiks in the stummick is tough,
But snaiks is a-knowin' when they've got enough.
So gittin' dissatisfied, most of 'em fled,
Some hid in his boots and some got in his bed.
I argiecl the pint 'at he never'd a died
If they'd a jest let 'em be on the inside.
We buried him there where the low grasses creep,
In a bed of pond-lilies we put him to sleep.
Where the meddy-larks sing and the cry of the loon,
An' the rice-hen is singin' a dolefuller tune.
We left him alone, after writin' his gal
Concernin' his death an' the Bung Town Canal.
Oh, them barefooted days an' the spot where I'd lay
An' jest steeped my hide in the glory o' day,
A-hearin' the bulrushes whisper an' sigh,
An' watchin' the shadder-clouds hurryin' by.
How I long to go back there, with some old-time pal,
'X dive off once a<nn in the l.ung Town Canal.
DH MASSA
De Massa to tie shepa'd say :
Go call de sheep rial's gone astray.
De night is col' I hear de win',
A shakin 'gin my winder blin';
Dars some po' sheep dat's gone astray
Go call 'em in, Cu-dey ! Cu-dey !
Cu-dey ! Cn-dey ! Cu-rley !
De shepa'd said de night was col',
But all rle sheep was in de fol*.
I called 'em in at set ob sun :
Dey all come runnin' sep de one
Dat's always wanderin' away.
An' never minds de call Cu-dev !
Cu-dey ! Cu-dey ! Cu-dey ! "
De massa then went fro de gloom.
Ob medder fit-Ids. De autumn moon
Wasdoclgin' roun' behin' a cloud.
But still he goes a callin' loud,
For dat one sheep dat's gone astray.
I hyar him call, " Cu-dey ! Cu-dey !
Cu-dey ! Cu-dey ! Cu-dey ! "
He listens long to hyar de soun'.
F'om some ole wedder pokin' roun',
Dat's gone to res' down in de dell.
An' wanderin' roun' has los' his bell ;
Tho' softer now so far away.
I hyar him call. " Cu-dey ! Cu-dey !
Cu-dev ! Cu-dev ! Cu-dev ! "
J43
But ftmler on in gloom an' damp,
Upon de border ob de swamp ;
So chill'd by dew an' autumn win's,
Right dar de po' los' sheep he fin's ;
He lifts him up, an leads de way,
Yit I hyar massa's echo say,
Cu-dey ! Cn-dey ! Cu-dey ! Cu-dey !
Cn-dey ! Cu-dey ! Cu-dey ! "
An' all night long de win' an' rains,
An' hail against de winder panes,
In dreams I hyar de massa call
De wanderin' sheep, he knows 'em all.
He pints de road, an' shows de way
An' ever stan's an' calls " Cu-dey !
Cu-dey ! Cu-dey ! Cu-dey ! Cu-dey !
Cu-dey ! Cu-dey ! Cu-dey ! "
COONIF. IN DF HOLI.FR
Coonie in de holler hidin' liin' de logs,
Little picaninies ketchin' pollywogs,
Banjo am a ping ping pingin' out a tune,
Ebery ting am Inbly as a day in June.
Ting, ping, ping, banjo am a pingin',
Sing, sing, sing, yaller gals a singin',
Wing, wing, wing, ain't dat wingin' fine?
De same ole step in de ole coonjine.
Cindy in de kitchen tryin' out de lard,
Jnsy in de do'way, rakin' up de yard,
Jaspah am a pickin' on de ole banjo
An' he am a singin' " Ise gwine home to Clo."
Coonie in de holler done gone up a tree.
An' he am a hidin' \\har no one can see.
But he know his bi/ness nuff not to come down,
Kase he know him likely meet dat frocious hoiuf.
Coonie in de holler, hark, I hyar a gun,
Git a goin' Rasmus, Jube git up an' run.
All de foolish niggahs runnin' till dev pant,
Bet tnv bottom dollah Rube has treed an ant.
"Pee, wee, wee," pee wees in de cedars,
Bluebirds come, robins an de leaders,
Cndder-rudder-rung, bullfrog just now sung,
Hyar dat distant thundah ; guess dat spring am
sprung.
AFTEK WE1DENFELLER GOES
It's goin' to be blamed lonesome after Weidenfeller goes;
Catastrofies are follerin' right along an' no one knows
What's goin' to happen next, for banks are bustin' every day
An' now we hear the woeful news that Weld's agoin' away.
Weid agoin' ! think o' that ! not goin' up above,
Xor out upon Midway 1'laisance, that spot the boys all love.
Or goin' to Californy or out to Idaho
But yet they say he's goin' away ; that's why we're filled with
woe.
O' course he ain't goin to die or anything like that,
lie's simply got his sal'ry raised and kind o' "standiif pat "
With — I believe it's with the boss ; I'm blamed if I can tell ;
Hut I know Weid's goin' away — know that mighty well.
I know the Club'll miss 'im lots ; so all the fellers here
Are gathered 'round the festal board tonight to give 'im cheer,
An' send 'im off in proper shape, which only goes to show
We're mighty glad lie's prosperin' but sad to see 'im go.
I've stood upon the- wild sea banks, afar in Michigan,
Just h-ft its sandy shores this morn to be here once again -
Back here to meet our dear old friend, with heart chock full
of woe.
An' don't that show I'm monrnin", too, cause Wcid has got
to go?
<iod bless 'im and let fortune smile and cheer 'im on each day.
Suckers and fame still tag 'im on an' get right in his way,
So if the Club 'pears lonesome when the frosts are comin' on.
We'll sit .-'.round an' sav it's jest cause Weidenfeller's gone.
ZACCHEUS
Zaccheus dim' up <U' sycanio' tree,
.\-\vaitin' fo' <le good Lo'd ter come,
DtMi' 'e looked up de road jes' fur as lie could see,
A-waitin' fo' de good Lo'd ter come.
Oh, Zaccheus knew he could done see de bes',
Rf 'e cliin' up de tree he could ovahlook de press,
Kn 'haps 'e could sleep eu git a leetle res',
While a waitin' fo' de good Lo'd ter come.
Waitin fo' de good Lo'd ter come elong come,
A waitin fo' de good Lo'd ter come,
He could ovahlook de press,
An' 'e git a leetle res'
While a- waitin' fo' de good Lo'd ter come.
Ole Zaccheus set on de bow ob de tree
Waitin' fo' de good Lo'd ter come,
A long time ago in de ole Judee,
A-waitin fo' de good Lo'd ter come.
Along about noontime en ebbery ting clear,
Word went around dat de Lo'd was drawin' near,
En de press begun to jostle en de multitude to cheer
While a-waitin fo' de Lo'd ter come.
Waitin' fo' de good Lo'd to come elong come,
A-waitin fo' de good Lo'd ter come.
When de Lo'd was drawin' near,
How de folks begun to cheer.
While a-waitin fo' de good Lo'd ter come.
When de Lo'd come elong 'e said to Zach,
Waitin' fo' de Lo'd ter come,
Ise pow'ful glad yo's heah, I am, fo' a fac',"
Waitin' fo' de Lo'd ter come.
So come right down hyah outen dat tree.
Yo's jes' de berry pusson Ise lookin' fo' ter see.
146
Dis day I abide at de house \vid thee,"
Waitin' fo' de Lo'd ter come.
Waitin' fo' de Lo'd ter come elong come,
A-waitin' fo' de good Lo'd ter come,
De republican an' sinnah,
Took de Lo'd home to dinnali,
Waitin fo' de Lo'd ter come.
Now Zaccheus he was an Israelite,
Waitin' fo' de good Lo'd ter come.
En he lived in a mansion way out o' sight
While waitiif fo' de Lo'd ter come.
En Zach knew de Lo'd knew he had stuff
En he wondah'd ef de Lo'd was dun makin' 'im a bluff.
Hut de Lo'd went home wid Zach sliuah ennff,
A-waitin' fo' de Lo'd ter come.
Waitin' fo' de good Lo'd ter come elong come,
A-waitin' fo' de good Lo'd ter come —
Oh, Zaccheus de sinnah,
Took de good Lo'd to dinnali —
A-waitin' fo' de good Lo'd ter come.
Ole Zacchens he was a sliuuh miff sinnah,
Waitin' fo' de good Lo'd ler come,
An' back in dem days was a seven time winner,
A-waitin' fo' de Lo'd ter come.
But de Lo'd told Zach he inns' gib to de po'
En neber let a beggah man pass his do'.
Den Zach he said : " 1 will Lo'd sho',"
While a-waitin' fo' de good Lo'd ler come.
Waitin' fo' de good Lo'd ter come elong come.
A-waitin fo' de good Lo'd ter come.
So gib me de po'
Dal pass by yo' do',
While a-waitin' fo' de good Lo'd ter come.
A RETROSPECTION
Ise a siUin' neaf de ole magnolia tree
So't o' thinkin' ob de times dat used to lie.
In de huckleberry patches
When we heah'd the steamah Xatchex.,
An' de white folks all 'ud hustle down to see.
Dar was Missy Elenor an' Julie Ann,
An' Haidee Lee, who lived wid Uncle Dan.
But she went and run'd away.
An' de folks set up an' sav
Dat she 'loped off wid a wicked no'then man.
I'o' Cindy she is daid, and Aunty IVlarv
Doan do nuffin' now but sate aroun' en worry ;
Hn ebery night she say
She 'specks to go next day,
But her disease ain' one dat 'pears to hurry.
De doctors seems es ef de}- hadn't made out
What 'tis dat makes ole aunty look so played out ;
But de time she will consume
Turnin' Heaven into gloom
Will make de Lo'd repent when she's done laid out.
Missie Elenor she married Col Paxton,
An' de scandal 'bout de colonel don't be axin',
But dey say, I undahstan',
Dat he done shot off his han',
Jes' to keep from jinin' good ole Stonewall Jackson.
An' Jiilie Ann dat talk like she was hoarse,
Dat huzzy she's done gone an' got divorce,
Dey lived in Chickamauga
Till she moved up to Chicagah,
Kase tings is mighty cheap up dar ob course.
'49
Vo' 'niL'inbah Haidee I,ee? I undahstan'
Dat she's trablin roun' de country wid a band,
An' I heah she sort o' prances
Wid a skirt an' thinks she dances,
Did yon evah, evah, goodness land !
Wid de 'vantages dey used to hab en" see
How deni girls was all turned out. Now can it be
Dat cussidness is sown,
Or is it in de bone ?
Well, hit inns' be in de family, seems to me.
ST. PATRICK'S DAY
Mavourneen, swate isle, I am lonely widout thee,
I sigh for your hills an' your calm sky so blue ;
Shure I niver had cause one shmall moment to doubt thee,
An' whin I'm not thinkin' I'm dhreamin' of you.
So lads whin I call ye's, come sing vour "Come all ye's,"
Ah ! here's to ould Ireland, byes, ivery toime ;
Deli, coleens, be aisy, your dhrivin me crazy.
What day of our country is one half so foine ?
St. Patrick's the dav, shure, it was in the mornin',
An' oh ! how it graved me, Mavourneen, to part ;
But I left ye's as I left me mother, a mournin'
An' kissin' the shamrock she placed near me heart.
I'm sorry I left ye's to cross the deep water,
For the game that I've played wid misfortune's a draw ;
But don't ye be ailin', I'll soon be a sailin'
Awav to the isle of swate " Krin go Bragli."
Then lend me the harp and I'll wake "Tipperary,"
Sing " By Kilarney " wid " Xoreen Maureen ; "
The shamrock I'm pressin', an' while I'm confessin'
I'm praisin' St. Patrick an' " wearin' the green."
So lads whin I call ye's, come sing your " Come all ye's,"
Ah ! here's to ould Ireland, byes, ivery toime ;
Dch, coleens, be aisy, your dhrivin' me cra/.v.
What dav of our couutrv is one half so foine?
INJUN SUMMAH
I)e Injun sinninali's coniin',
De l)ees is all froo liuininin',
])e watah-inellon thuinbiir
Has passed long lime ago.
. De ole clock in de kitchen
Is tickin' inos' bevvitchin',
While (kibe is out unhitchin'
Just kase it looks like snow.
De lambs is runnin' over
De aftalimath ob clovah,
An' yondah comes de drovah ;
I 'spec lie's got a yalni
About de ole bell-weddah
Dat's wand'rin roun' de nieddah
An' wants ter git togeddah
\Yid de sheep up roun' de balm.
Some days de sun is shinin',
Some days de win' is whinin',
An' den Ise after fin 'in'
Rig pippins on de groun' ;
De birds hab all stopped singin',
\YiP geese is soufward wiugin',
Jes' look an' see 'em stringin'
Whar wannah weddah's foun'.
De ya.ller cat is nappin'
Kn layin' roun' an' gappin' ;
Uimeby he will be slappin'
Some tom-cat on de wall.
Dar's a mellah, yellah glory
Kase <le yeah is ol' an' ho'rv,
An' a mt-lancholy story
So't <>' luunjiu' roun' us all.
'CAUSE IT'S GITTIN' SPRING
The niedder lark is pipin' forth a sweeter note to me,
And I hear the pewees over yonder in the cedar tree ;
The popple leaves is quiv'rhr 'cause the wind is in the west,
And the robin's 'round a hookin' straws to build hisself a lies';
The blackbird he's a flashin' up the crimson on his wing.
What's the reason ?
Oh, the reason's 'cause it's gittin' spring.
The old man's got the rheumatix, an' stiff as he can be ;
Why it don't git settled weather's moah'n he can see?
But when it clears oft spk ndid, then he's feared the crops is lost
An' he reckons jest a little wind 'nd keep away the frost.
The kitchen door is open ; I can hear Klmiry sing.
What's the reason ?
Oh, the reason's 'cause it's gittin' spring.
The air is kind o' soft'nin' and yon think it's goin' to storm ;
Sometimes it's kind o' chilly, then again it comes off warm ;
An' jest when it's the stillest you can hear the bullfrog's note,
An' it 'pears as if he wonder'd how the frost got in his throat.
The ducks and geese are riotous, an' strainin' hard to sing.
What's the reason ?
Oh, the reason's cause it's gittin' spring.
DECORATE DE CABIN
Ise done g\vine ter decorate mah cabin,
Wid all de brick-er-brack Ise been a habbin',
Den Ise boun' ter hunt er wife,
'Deed I is, yo' bet yo' life.
Dar's nnffin like a woman roun' er blabbin'.
Ise gwine ter hang1 a coon skin on de do',
Kn hab some Turkey rugs roun' on de flo';
An' I nevah yet hab seen,
De ole cabin look ser clean,
Kf yo' peep in dar some time yo'll fin' it so.
I los' mail wife las' summah, Jane Safras,
Kase she done got up'n blew out de gas,
An' eber saince her leabin',
Ise bin a sort o' greebin',
Hut I hope de one Ise ketchin' now'll las'.
We's gwine ter start right in to decoratin',
An' yo' will be surprised at what I'm statin',
She's six feet high en taperin',
Kn out ob sight in paperin',
Ise mighty glad Ise been so long a-waitin'.
We'sgwine ter 'range de pictures on de wall —
Yo' talk about a fine reception hall —
Yo' ought to see de flowahs,
Kn de chromios in ours,
\\"y de white man's house ain" in de thing at all.
THE ULTIMATUM
" You can decorate your office with a thousand gilded signs,
And have upholstered furniture in quaint antique designs ;
Have the latest patent telephone where you can yell ' Hello ! '
But," said she, " I just made up my mind that typewriter must
go."
"You can stay down at the office, as you have done, after hours;
And, if you are partial to bouquets, I'll furnish you with flowers.
You can spring the old club story when you come home late,
you know,
But, remember, I've made up my mind that typewriter must go. "
"You can let your book-keepers lay off and see a game of ball;
The office-boy can leave at noon or not show up at all.
There — what is this upon your coat? It isn't mine I know.
I think I know a thing or two — that typewriter shall go."
15-1
{
DREAMY DAYS
Oh ! the dreamy days of youth,
In appearance how uncouth,
As we waded through the frog ponds and
The ditches.
With big patches on each knee,
And where they hadn't ought to be.
Oh ! the days when one suspender
Held our breeches.
Oil ! the dreamy days of yore,
And the slippery cellar door.
Oh ! that cherry tree whose fruit we oft
Were testing.
Then we'd wait till after tea,
When we'd sing with doleful glee.
Oh ! how often mother made it
Interesting.
155
WHEN THE STAr.E CilTS IN
Pap '11 »'it a letter, 'ml Uncle Zed a book,
'Xd Aunty Jane expects er magazine ;
'Xd school '11 all be out,
'Xd the children run 'nd shout,
While a playin' " one-old-cat " out on the green.
An' the men 'at's in the grocery store
'Ll come outside 'nd stand
'Xd talk, 'nd look around 'nd grin ;
Fer the folks down at the postoffice
A-standin' all around
Are happy when the stage conies in.
Ma has done the bakin', 'nd made some patty cakes,
'Xd Lizzie has done the sweepin' all alone ;
An' she's dustin' up the furniture
'Xd settin' things about,
Cause tomorry we're expectin' Aunt Se'phrone.
Xan has had 'er hair did up
In papers all night long ;
'Xd today she's a-frizzin' it agin ;
I bet you any money she's expectin' some one, too,
'At '11 be here when the stage gits in.
When you see the yaller cat begin a-washin' up,
An' 'er hind leg pinted over that way, some
Folkses allers say it is
The surest kind o' sign
'At company is liable to come.
'Xd when the parlor's opened a sort o' funny smell
Comes cause the fire's kindled up ag'in,
We're goin to have a high old time
'Xd all our relatives
I'll be here when the stage gits in.
THF Clli.TljRF.D GIRL AGAIN
She was so esthetic and culchud.
Just doted on Wagner and (duck ;
And claimed that perfection existed
In some foreign English bred duke.
She raved over Browning and Huxley,
And Tyndal, and Darwin, and Taine ;
And talked about Flora and Fauna,
And many things I can't explain.
Of Madame Blavatski, the occult,
Theosophy, art, and then she
Spoke of the Cunead Sibyl
And Venus de Med-i-che.
She spoke of the why and the wherefore,
But longed for the whither and whence ;
And she said yclept, yip, yap and yonder
Were used in alliterative sense.
Well I like a fool sat dumfounded,
And wondered what she didn't know.
'Twas 10 when I bade her good evening,
I thought it in season to go.
1 passed her house yesterday evening.
I don't know, but it seems to me,
She was chasing around in the kitchen,
And getting things ready for tea.
I heard her sweet voice calling : " Mother,"
It was then that I felt quite abashed,
For she yelled, " How shall I fix the 'taters,
Fried, lioni/ed, baked, biled, or mashed
HE CUSHVILLE HOP
Ise gwine down to de Cushville hop
An' dar ain' no niggahs gwine ter make me stop ;
Missus gwine to deck me all up in white,
So watch de step dat Ise gettin' in ter night.
Um-hm, my honey, tain' no vise ;
Um-hm, my honey, turn me loose,
Um-hm, my honey, watch me shine
When mah foot am a shakin in de ole coonjine.
No black niggahs come foolin' roun' me,
Ise jes' to look at, anyone can see ;
Ise jes' a orniment, an' I mus' 'fess
No niggah put 'is ahm roun' mah snow-white dress.
Um-hm, niggah, keep away, understand ?
Um-hm, niggah, look out fo' yo' hand ;
Ise jes' ter gaze at I must 'fess
So don't put yo' ahm roun' mah snow-white dress.
Bring out de banjo plunk-plank-pling,
Watch de motion of mah step an' mah swing ;
Don't yo' pestah me or make me stop
When I git in motion at de Cushville hop.
Um-hm, niggah, keep away, keep away !
Um-hm, niggah, not ter day !
Keep away from me kase I done kain't stop :
Ise jes' caught mah motion fo' de Cushville hop.
158
(iORD ONLY KNOWS
I saw an ole beggar dis mawnin', Luciiidy,
I)e weathah was col' an' bleak an' windy,
An' de fros' took liold
Ob de end oh his nose.
\\~har \vus he goin' ?
Gord only knows, chile,
(iord only knows.
All he had on was an' ole woolen jacket,
An' pants dat had done seed a might}- ha'd racket.
His shoes war all out,
Kase I saw his toes.
\Vhar wus he goin' ?
Gord only knows, chile,
Gord only knows.
He said his gran'chilun had turned him away,
Wid iiuffin to eat on las' Thanksgibin' Day.
Wid no ovahcoat,
He looked about froze.
Whar was he goin' ?
Gord only knows, chile,
Gord only knows.
lie lifted his han's, dav was bony an, blue,
An' axed me was dis hyar de main avenue,
Den walked ovali dnr
To dose ten'ment rows.
Had he friends in dar ?
Gord only knows, chile,
( iord only knows.
160 GORD ONLY KNOWS
I doan bleb in treatin' a gran'fader so,
Kase some day its comin' right squar back yer know.
An' when we grow ole
An' come to de snows,
Den who'll keer fo' us?
Gord only knows, chile,
Gord only knows.
Gord keeps account ob de sparrers dat fall,
We stan' a-waitin' we soon hyar him call.
Gord brings de wintah,
De rain an' de snows,
Gord makes de win' blow,
But jes' whar it goes,
Gord only knows, chile,
Gord onlv knows.
JES' TAKE MY ADVICE
Jes' a little sunshine, jes' a little rain,
Jes' a little happiness, jes' a little pain.
Jes' a little verselet sounds mighty nice
'Bout some oddah business ; jes' take my advice.
Jes' a little chicken-coop standin' neah de fence
Jes' a little dahkey, too, widout a hit ob sense ;
Jes' a little pressin' by de fahmer on de triggah,
Jes' a little 'splosion, den a perforated niggah.
Jes' a little lazy coon roiin' a shootin' craps,
Den a buyin' policies roun' de lottery traps ;
Jes' a little out ob cash, jes' a little stuck ;
Jes' a little hungry, jes' a niggah's luck.
Jes' a little bettin' on de faverite in de race ;
Jes' a little ways behin', workin' hard fo' place ;
Jes' a little money won by dat oddah moke.
Jes' a little thing like dat lef dis dahkey broke.
Jes' a little pressin' on de latch, wid no one in ;
Jes' a little jewelry, jes' a diamond pin ;
Jes' a little sheriff on a niggah's trail.
Jes' seen little tings as dat got dis coon in jail.
PATRIOTISM AND A PENSION
Ole I'o'th oh July
Am mighty close by,
Kase I done smell powdah in de ahr ;
An' de beatin ob de drums
When de regiment comes
Sort o' 'minds me ob de times in de wall.
I was chief ob a division
Dat furnished de pervision.
An' I done looked wid pride on niah troops
I haid em so well drilled
Dat none ob dem got killed —
Ouah bizness was inspectin' chicken coops.
1 was shot froo de lip.
An' wounded in de hip,
En fractuah'd mo' er less about de haid,
At de trouble roun' I'o't Pickens.
I was skirmagin' for chickens
When mah foot slipt an' I fell off de shaid.
Gen'l Sherman gib us right
To forage mos" de night,
So dat's why Ise trompin' on dis paig.
I was out abductin' salt,
When somebody hollahed "halt ! "
An' de fool up an' shot me in de laig.
162
in:
Jais what I want ter mension
Is, I want increase oh pension,
An' I make inah affidavit fo' de judge
Dat I was in conmian'
When a shell bust in inah hand,
An' fo' fohty-seben days I couldn't budge.
I'll stop, en hoi' inah peace,
Ef I get a good increase ;
I want mah pension bill increased to five ;
Foh inah lip, en hip, an' hand,
En mah haid, yo' unde'stan',
An' one jes' fo' comin' out alive.
THt 01. 1) MUSICIAN'S HATH
lie played so many instruments
A thousand won't express
The number that he handled — why
'Twas nior'n that, I guess ;
An" when he got to playin' hard
\Ye couldn't make 'im stop ;
It seemed he didn't want to rest
Er ever take a drop.
He'd look around fer things to play,
Then walk up to the viol
As if he'd suddenly forgot,
An' touch up that awhile.
The mandolin was his best holt —
He jest took the diploma
With his Philomela, Tierra
Del Fuego, L,a Paloma.
He played an upright pianner forte,
A concert grand, or square,
And he imitated Paddy
Roofski, all accept the hair.
Yon should have heard him when he played
Upon an old trombone
That song about the moments when
One wants to be alone.
He played upon an Aeolian,
Told us how he used to roam
An' play " Little Sally Waters"
Ten thousand miles from home.
He played a big church organ great,
1'lavt'd with his hands and feet,
TJ/J-: (>/. I) Ml '.S7C 7. 7.V.V /•'. / '/•/;•
And often played the choir, too.
Oh, it was just a treat,
lie played the jevvsharp, hit the pipe,
And worked the organette ;
He played not only instruments,
But everyone he met.
He played 'em all ; you should have heard
Him jerk a grewsome tune
And play those eozoic notes
Upon a long bassoon.
He played the soft guitar an' scraped
The tuneful violin ;
Old " number five " was his best holt.
He used to sit and grin.
An' jest ketch up the instruments
One right after another ;
It didn't make no difference,
For one was good as t'other.
Strange instruments — the lyre and lute
And others that he tooted.
You took your choice. He didn't care
Whether he fifed or Muted.
He'd rather play 'an anvthing.
Unless it was to drink,
Because he said it rested 'ini
An' gave 'im time to think.
He made some curious instruments
That nobody could play.
And said 'at he would jest about
Surprise us all some day.
And so one time lie fetched 'er out, —
Of all the lookin' tilings,
With harps an' horns attached to 'er
An' run criss-cross with strings.
He brought 'er forth an' sat 'er down
As if he knew his bi/,
And when we asked him what it was/
He answered, "What it is."
1 66 THE OLD Ml 'S/( 7. I.\"S /•'. I 77:'
We laughed as we were seated 'round ;
I recollect 'twas June ;
It rained that spring, rained all this morn.
And rained that afternoon.
There seemed a touch of magic in
The deftness of his hand ;
A look about his pallid face
We didn't understand.
The instrument we noted much,
It had such curioiis stringing
The frets arranged in such a way ;
He'd made it so for singin'.
Then touching on a happy theme
That carried us remote.
To sunset lands, for melody
Divine was in each note.
We listened to the lullabies
Till all were silent, stilled.
In memory of the bygone days,
The eyes of all were filled.
Then on to sterner manhood and
Old age. Ah ! how he played !
We saw again life's pathway, too ;
But oh ! how far we'd strayed.
Then on to sunken cheeks we pass.
From life then on to glory.
O song ! O dirge I O sainted theme !
Sad requiem to life's story.
That pallid look now comes again.
The tremors o'er him creep.
His head falls back. Dead? No, my friend,
He's simply gone to sleep.
A RECORD F'OM 'WAY BACK
Yo' spose Ise gwine ter cuh-conib
An' boddah wid dis nag
Ef I low'd he wasn't evah gwinter go ?
Why chile, yo' make me tiahed !
Dis ve'y hoss was siahed
By Pokehontas fohty yahs ago.
Ise doctahed up his wheezin',
An' done stopped him ob his sneeziiv ;
Kn pahsley cuahed de spavin on his baik ;
Ef he wasn't quite so bulky,
I'd put him 'foah de sulky,
An' lait yo' see his motion on de traik,
'Ceptin' froo de wintah, las' yeah
I haid him out to pastuah ;
Hut de famah said he didn't hab no saince.
Dar's nuffin '11 keep 'im quiet
When he gits down on 'is diet,
An' once 'e eat a whole bahb-wiah faiuce.
De way I come to buy 'im
Was, de day I come to try 'im
Lse dumb-foundered wid de way he tuk de bit.
An' as I was on mah way baik,
He kerlided wid a hay stack,
An' hi couldn't coax 'is tenshun offen hit.
Yo' notice dat he winks, sah,
He's comin' out de kinks, sah ;
An' mine yo' doan go nyah his heels at all,
Kase 'e's nuhvas an' 'e's dangus,
An' speshly so to strangers,
An' hi nevah 'low no ])iisson 'roun' 'is stall.
He's pow'ful fond ob grazin'
An' his appytite's amazin' ;
Dat's a sho sign dat 'e's got good bottom to 'im.
When I bought 'iin 'e's so thin
Dat 'e couldn't ketch 's win',
An' Rasmus, yo' could read a papah thro' 'im.
I tale yo' he's a hummah,
'Low I'll show de folks dis sumniah,
Kase jes' now he aint feelin' zackly bright,
When he gets 'is second win' sah,
Yo' ought to see him spin, sah,
Why, chile, dat hoss's reckod 's out ob sight.
THANKSG1BBIN IN OLE V1RGINNY
Ter-day's Thanksgibbin',
En good land er libbin',
Go gib de ole hoss er double mess o' co'n.
Ole pot bubble
Possum's in trouble,
An' vve's gwine ter feas' upon 'im sho's yo' bo'n.
Nigger wid de long straw he git de possum ;
Nigger wid de nex' straw de jack rabbit ; den
Nigger wid de nex' one he gits de turkey,
But de short straw done draw de little Guinea hen.
De little speckle' hen,
De little Guinea hen,
Little pickaninny has ter eat de Guinea hen.
Ter-day's Thanksgibbin',
Good Ian' er libbin'.
Po' ole beggah-man comes knockin' at de do';
Gib 'im offyo' table
Long as yo' is able,
Kase poverty an' hunger may sometime come to yo'.
Darkey wid de long straw he git de possum,
Darkey wid de nex' straw de jack rabbit ; den
Darkey wid de nex' one he git de turkey,
But de short straw done draw de little Guinea hen.
De little speckle' hen,
De little Guinea heu,
De short straw done draw de little Guinea hen.
GRAVE MATTERS
Wen dis ole man comes ter die,
Death is mos' unsightly ;
Doan' yo' lay me in no room
Wid de pull-down curtain gloom ;
'Tain't de place de dead should stay
Wen de spirit's gone away,
Off ter where hit's brightly.
'Struct de pa'son 'fore he 'gins,
'fetch the subject tritely ;
Kase hit's gen'ly undahstood
I hain't been so pow'ful good ;
And fo' him ter shout an' groan
'Bout me settin' roun' de frone,
'JvOw hit won't look rightly.
Wen de fun'al 'gins ter start,
Shove mah box in tightly.
'Membah I is in de hearse ;
Yo' am comin', but Ise firs'.
Ef de mo'ners grieve and mope,
So's ter make de bosses lope,
Keep de team up sprightly.
lyowah me slowly in de grave ;
Drap de earf down lightly.
Needn't linger long, and, say,
'Spense wid prayer's de better way ;
Don't keer ef nobody sings.
Jes ter know de chu'ch bell rings
'S gwine ter please me might'ly.
COMIN' CHRISTMAS MORN
I'm goiti' to start next Saturday;
It won't take more'n a day
To visit the United States
In my new toboggan sleigh.
I've sent Jack Frost ahead o' me
To sort o' find a road,
So my deers '11 find it easy
'Cause I've got an awful load.
But they've had lots o' exercise,
An' know the way by sight ;
I've speeded them to Baffin's Bay
An' back here 'fore 'twas night.
An' once I drove to Puget's Sound
An' once to Behring Sea ;
I had ter make a trip up there
To get a Christmas tree.
I wish't you all could see my house,
Built out o' cakes o' ice ;
I guess you think it cold inside,
But no, it's awful nice.
All carpeted with sealskin rugs,
An' ermine, mink and sable ;
I'm going to keep it furnished so
As long as I am able.
172 mi//.V CHRISTMAS MORN
An' no goniphobers in the north
Can steal 'round unawares,
Because my castle's guarded by
Two great big polar bears.
So if a burglar man should come
An' try to break into it
They'ud squeeze his life out in a jif,
I've taught 'em how to do it.
Just right around behind my house
Is where I keep the toys,
'At I am comin' south'ard with
Fer all good girls an' boys.
My big cold storage warehouse stands
Right by a frozen tarn
An' right along aside o' it
I have my reindeer's barn.
So never mind, they're both piled full
Of everything on earth,
With Christmas gifts till you can't rest,
I don't know what they're worth.
An' four big sea dogs set outside
Two walruses, a seal
That knows so much if you'd come nigh
He'd be the first to squeal.
The purtiest sight you ever sa\v,
'S when things is lit up nights —
You know we don't have gas up here,
But use the Northern Lights.
An' forth from every icicle
A dazzle spreads away
That turns the hull big frozen zone
Into one mighty day.
From where I live I'd have you know.
It's truth upon my soul,
I don't have very far to go
To see the big North Pole,
COMIW CHRISTMAS MORN 173
Where Uncle Sam has pinned his flag,
There's where the cold wind pipes,
And flaunts the emblem of the brave,
The proud old stars and stripes.
I'm coming children, coming, yes,
You ought to see my sleigh,
And hear the tinkle, tinkle, as
I speed along the way,
Through forests bare, o'er snowy plains.
As sure as you are born,
Old Santa Claus is coming and
Will be here Christmas morn.
SAD PATH OF YIM YOHNSEN
Ay been har een deese country
Feni yar go laist week ;
Ay been smart Norwehians —
Ay keets on pooty quvick.
Ven Ay keni har Ay see beg krode
Of fallers en Ay tal
Ay vants niae go pooty bad
To da Stockholm hotal.
De bus mans say vere you kem fram ?
Ay say by {Copenhagen.
Hae puss mae rate troo krode
An' get niae in his vagen.
Next day get yob in engine-bus ;
Dae fomans he like mae.
Hae rase mae vadgses leeta vile ;
Ay tank Ay stay vade hae.
Ay get mae quainted nice gal,
Her nam is Christina Yohnsen ;
She been here bote hawixteen yar,
She kem hare bay Visconsen.
She say she verk Saidgeveck street
By da Norway hotel ;
She got blue eye en some rade hair —
Ay laka hare pooty val.
A}- ask hare dake a street-car rade.
She say she tank she voke ;
Ay voke by hare to Lincoln Park
En have a pooty good talk.
'74
SAD FATE OF YIM YOHNSEN 175
She call mae hare partickley frande
En den I tank she say,
' ' Who vill be my papie
Ven Yim is gone avay."
Pooty quvick she see vooinan frande
En den she say to mae ;
" Mister Yohnsen please excoose mae,
Ay vill meed yo' after tea."
En leeta vile Ay tink Ay go
To da Stockholm hotel.
Ay meese mae money, vatch, en chain ;
Ay feel mae not real veil.
Ay drink mae alcoholen,
Bote fifteen glass, en svair ;
Ay fight mae two policemans
Ay tank Ay soon gets squair.
Dae call patrolen vagen
En Ay rade to da yail ;
Ay stay mae dare bout fern day,
Den Ay keni out on bail.
Ay tell da yustice man abote
De rade-head gal Ay seen ;
Da krode of fallers laugh en say
Dat ya is pooty green.
Chicago konty vare bad place,
Ay loose mae vadgses all ;
Ay take mae trunk to depot train
En go mae by Santa Pol.
LEGEND OF THE ST. JOSEPH
There's a place, 'pon my soul,
Called the "Old Devil's Hole,"
By the Chippewa chief, Black Otter,
Who when business was damp
Went into his camp,
And filled up with fierce fire water.
Then over the river
Over the river
He called to his squaw, Maumee,
" Go get my canoe,
And you may come too,
And bring little Walle-wo-ge.'1
So off to the river
They all flew the ground,
" Black Otter " as brave as could be,
And the little pappoose —
He couldn't get loose —
Was strapped to the back of Maumee.
They floated till dark,
When the wolfs weird bark
Frightened the wits of Maumee ;
So she loosened the sack,
Tied fast to her back,
That contained little Walle-wo-ge.
176
LEGEND OF THE ST. JOSEPH 177
" Black Otter " bent low
And reached for his how,
When the boat tipped up on its side
And in fell he, with his squaw Maumee ;
And the boat set free, with Walle-wo-ge,
Sped swiftly along with the tide.
Down the swift river's tide
The pappoose took a ride ;
The canoe shot along like a rocket,
But he lay there as snug
As a bug in a rug;
Or an old woolen glove in a pocket.
On, on, out to sea,
Drifted Walle-wo-ge,
With his face pointed up to the skies ;
And history says,
Which is true, more or less,
That the gray sea gulls pecked out his eyes.
Black Otter was drowned
And never was found ;
But they say that old Squaw Maumee
Waded back thro' the damp
Of the marsh to the camp
In search of her Walle-wo-ge.
Came back thro' the swale,
And the rain and the hail,
By the side of the waters so blue,
In search of her baby,
To pick him up, may be,
I wish this would all come out true.
Her spirit distressed,
She beat on her breast,
For the poor old squaw's grief knew no bound;
But Monets so swift,
Bore her off in a skiff,
To the land of the famed hunting ground.
178 LEGEND OF THP2 ST. JOSEPH
On the ninth of November
I hope you'll rememlxir,
A phantom one plainly can r,ee
Walk down from the hole.
In search of the soul
Of poor little Walle-wo-ge.
Now, this is the legend
Of this old-time region,
And the tale of the squaw Maumec,
Likewise old Black Otter,
Who fell in the water,
And poor little Walle-wo-ge.
LITTLE JUDE
Po' little Jude, why, doan' yo' know
Dat little chile ? A yeah ago
Her muddah died. I reckon now
'Twas jais las' spring Ise tellin' yo'
'Bout little Jude.
Po' little waif indeed she war ;
An' how she cried, jes' out de crib
Dat baby war an' her muddah died.
Could walk an' run an' jabbah some,
Dat little Jude. Hit make me cry,
Tale yo' hit do, jes' when I tink
'Bout little Jude,
De fun'al day she war asleep,
Tuckt in de crib, dat little chile
Had on her bib — dat orfin Jude.
De mo'ners come ; an' when dey pray
Dat little Jude waked up an' say :
Mammie ! Mammie ! " jes' dat way.
Nobody know jes' what to do
Wid little Jude.
She cry so ha'd dey HP her down ;
F'om room to room she toddled roun'
A-cryin' : " Mammie ! come an' take
Yo' little Judy dat's awake —
Yo' little Judy's wide awake."
My Ian' ! de teahs come in my eyes !
But when she foun' her own high chain,
Dat had been hid an' pushed it up
'Long side ob whah her muddah was,
An' den climbed up an' pounded on
De coffin-lid, I couldn't stan'
De awful grief — de sobs an' teahs —
An' little Jude, a-lookin' roun'
Foh one dat now at las' she's foun'—
Why, chile I kain't — I nevah will
Fo'get dat day.
170
LITTLE PUCKEN SINGER
Ae tank Ae gal hae "ote a sate,"
She bae Little Pucken singen.
Har eyes bae bright, lake stars bae nate,
An bae gol, niae ears bae ringen
Vare much,
Ven Ae lave dae teeter hus.
Des var fane gal bae drass in vate —
She bae des contraldo .singen.
Ae tank sometime sha bae yust lak
Dere fairies tengs, vid clingen
Brasses on,
Ven Ae lave dae teeter hus.
Des songs sha sings bae " Do Ce Las,"
Bae des Spanish langvage written
Dae pootiest teng, Ae tank, der vas
En al des vorld. Ae tank Ae smitten
Ved har
Ven Ae lave dae teeter hus.
Ae go an see har avry nate,
( Ae vonder vot sha tanks bae mae ? )
An sit al time bae dae front sate,
An look bae har. Ae tank Ae bae
Beg fools,
Ven Ae lave dae teeter hus.
But al de same Ae go vonce more,
Yust for von glance bae har pooty eyes,
Dae make mae heart stop. Den Ae fale sore
Vare much. Ae tank ets al lies —
Dose eyes,
Ven Ae lave dae teeter hus.
Ae tank des gal bae ' ' ote a sate : ' '
She bae Little Pucken singen,
Har eyes bae bright, like stars bae nate,
An bae gol, mae ears bae ringen
Vare much,
Ven Ae lave dae teeter hus.
DOWN IN WALHALLALAH
I put flowers on L,eeda's grave
Down in Walhallalah ;
Flowers that in the spring she gave,
Asking me to cherish, save,
Still I placed them on her grave
Down in Walhallalah.
Tender rains came down at night,
Down in Walhallalah
Took the flowers I had pressed
Tenderly to earth and blessed ;
They returned, ah ! newly dressed,
Down in Walhallalah.
But one flower I had pressed
Down in Walhallalah,
Did not find its way up through
With the violets so blue
And the marigolds that grew
Down in Walhallalah.
Ah ! farewell for evermore ;
Farewell, Walhallalah,
Tender rains from ashen skies
Never more can ope the eyes
Of the angelhood that lies
Cold in Walhallalah.
Withered hopes, how like my soul,
Down in Walhallalah,
Never more shall rise and bloom ;
Such the fate of love. The doom
Of all is but the tombed gloom
Down in Walhallalah.
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