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presented to the 







Remains of Ben King Brought 
Here on Their Way Home. 


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. 


, 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 d 2 pot 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 




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 





PlfSS Of 

.-1. B. i \fo>se Coipan\ 
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 


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. 


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 


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 

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. 





If I Should Die 

Say When, and Say It . 

Gittin My Soul Inter Shape 


Gedder In Yo Grain 

Jane Jones 


Her Folks An Hiz n 

The Yaller Jackets Nest 

How Hank Died 

How Often 

Benton Harbor, Mich. . 


The Flower s Ball 

De Sun s Comin Back 

The River St. Joe 

The Robin and the Chicken 

Baby Up at Battenberg s 







No Harm Done . 4 2 

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 


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 


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 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. 


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. 


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 ! 


\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 I v ution, an what does she say 

Bout how we all sprung from a ape ? 
An there s the goriller and big, 

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. 


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 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 ! 


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. 


He maird her cause she had money an 1 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. 


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. 


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. 


"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. 


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. 


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. 


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, 


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. 


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. 


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. 


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. 


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. 


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 ? 


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. 


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. 


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 

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 

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. 


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. 

4 S //< / 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. 


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 ! 


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 

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. 


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 

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. 


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. 


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 ! " 


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 cassow r ary, 
And the feathers of the emu she had stuck in her "chiffonier." 


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 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. 


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 ()u t 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. 


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." 


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. 


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. 


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 an 1 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. 



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. 


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. 


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 <, r uv de s])erience of mail fec-lin s, and 1 


Dat dey s quite a smart o people tinks mail way. 
Wen a man begins a-shoutin* bout de <food tings dat he s 


Kickin kase dey ain t a fortune in his job, 
Let im go home to his kitchen, an st-t down a while an 

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 

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. 


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 

Sav what in the deuce would we do? 


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 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. 


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 ! 


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 : " Vo 1 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. 


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. 


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. 


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. 


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. 


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 . 


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. 


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? 


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." 


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. 



"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 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 o 1 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, 


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. 



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 

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, 

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 

While others went below to smile, and there the brown ale 


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. 


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 . 


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. 


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. 


( )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 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. 


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 ? 


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. 


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 . 


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 . 


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. 



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 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 ; 


cat o nine 

I ll have to call the old cat o nine tails in. 

cat o nine 


Are you sassy to yer father, are you fibbin to yer mother ? 
Are you quarrelin with yer sister an a pinchin of yer 


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 ; 


cat o nine 

I ll have to call the old cat o nine tails in. 

cat o nine 




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 ; 


cat o nine 

I ll have to call the old cat o nine tails in. 

cat o nine 



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. 


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. 


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. 



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. 


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, 


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 tow T er. 
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 


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 


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 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. 


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. 


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, 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 mj r soul with glee, 
Is when that hunk of daylight 

Climbs up out of the sea. 


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. 


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. 


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 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? 


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? 


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." 



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 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. 


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 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. 


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 . 


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. 



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 


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 


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. 


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 . 


" 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." 


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. 


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. 


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. 


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? 

I 3 6 

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. 


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. 


()! 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. 


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. 


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. 


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 ! " 


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 ! " 


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 


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 

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 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. 


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. 


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. 


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. 


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? 


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. 


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. 


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 hang 1 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. 


" 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 

"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." 




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 




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. 


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 


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. 



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. 


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 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. 


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. 



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. 


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. 


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. 


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. 


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. 


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. 


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, 


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. 


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. 



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. 


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. 



" 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. 


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. 


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. 



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. 


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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