IC-NRLF GIFT OF ^ 5 - o f-* m ? s < - ro m " o BY SPECIAL REQUEST MARIE NELSON LEE BY SPECIAL REQUEST MARIE NELSON LEE Published by THE YOUTHLAND PRESS No. 31 West Carrilo Street Santa Barbara, California Copyright 1921 by MARIE NELSON LEE Los Angeles INTRODUCTION Such are friends they will endure E en to read my verses o er And ask to have their choice reprinted- ( Requestors names in index hinted). 482T8S in TABLE OF CONTENTS Requested by Page No. A CLIMATIC CULMINATION . Jim 58 ABBY LOUISE Frances B \2 A HOUSEHOLD GOD .... ( Loving Neffew" Mary 13 AN ARTLESS PARVENUE . . . Fred G 36 A PRAYER Uncle Strong ... 35 A THANK YE MA AM . . . Mother Lee .... 52 AUTUMN S SNAP SHOTS . . . Jack L 56 ECSTACY Beatrice 20 FORCE OF HABIT Leota 41 GARDENS AND SPRING . . . Thomas 34 HE Page 32 His PHILOSOPHY Pruella Janet ... 48 IN MOTHER S EYES .... Helen 31 IN THE SHIP S HOLD .... Robert 39 IN CALIFORNIA Mary belle .... 7 INSOMNIA Edna 24 JEST AROUND THE CORNER . I. R 15 LITTLE DAFFYDILLY .... Friend Leila ... 42 MOTHER ACROSS THE SEA . . Frances 25 MY ELECTRICAL FAN . . . Richard 50 MY PROMPTER Isabelle 21 MY KIND o* GUY Walter 14 OH, WOULDST I WERT . . . Penel 43 PRAYER TO THE WAR GOD . . Gertrude 1 16 SPRING GETS ME . Joel Art . .51 [BY SPECIAL REQUEST] Requested by Page No. SONG OF THE AIRMAN . . . Frederick M. ... 2 THE CANARY BIRD .... Ada ...... 11 THE DANDIEST DAY .... Irene ...... 44 THE DEAD LIVING ROOM . . C. W ...... 22 THE DREAMER ...... EllaT.W ..... 54 THE ONE-YEAR-OLD LADY . Donald ..... 46 THE TUNELESS FIDDLE . . . Gertrude II ... 18 THE WAY ....... "Doss" ..... 9 WATCHING FOR SANTA GLAUS Rowland .... 29 WHERE is THE OuNCEf . . Adeline ..... 40 WHO COMES OVER THE HILL? Pettingill .... 10 YOUNG MANHOOD Drusie . 28 VI IN CALIFORNIA SURE, March, the sassy, thieving jade Is stealing fair May s thunder, In days that witch the soul o ye And all yer worries plunder. The timorous, wee humming birds And the bumptuous bumble-bees Are a sipping perfumed honey From the blossom laden trees. The rollicking, rover robin And the songful mocking bird, Are carrolling the sweetest songs That a body ever heard. Ye wanta loosen down yer hair, And undress yer feet and rove Cross a clover-scented meadow, Thru a ferny-scented grove, To where a chatterboxious brook Splashes over shining stones, And gossips to the watercress In low, unctious undertones. Ye wanta linger on the bank And to feel the thrilling cool Of mossy earth along yer length, As ye sprawl beside the pool. [BY SPECIAL REQUEST] Ye long to smell the dank, sweet ground And the spicy undergrowth. Ye wanta run ye wanta rest And to get yer fill o both.*** Here are pines, acacias, peppers And the eucalypti tall But I miss young leaves in the spring And the gay leaves in the fall. The petticoated palms are topped With most fascinating hoods But my very soul is yearning For the smell of Back-East woods. [BY SPECIAL REQUEST] THE WAY DEEP in my soul a still, small voice Whispered the Way of Life to me, But the call of Youth was loud and clear, My heart beat high and I could not hear, And The Way I could not see. Deep in my soul the still, small voice Cautioned the way of life to me, But the song of Love was sweet and clear, My blood surged high and I did not hear, And The Way I did not see. From the depths of my soul the silent voice Still urged the way of life to me, But the World called to my eager ear, Ambition thundered, I would not hear, And The Way refused to see. The call of Youth and of Love are hushed, The call of the World comes an echo to me, But the voice of my soul, that seemed so small, Speaks clearly a message transcending all, And The Way I hope to see. [By SPECIAL REQUEST] WHO COMES OVER THE HILL? THE snowdrop shyly lifts her head Half afraid to stay: The Robin plumps his gaudy chest And trills a rondelay: The Brooklet bursts her icy bonds And sweeps the channel clear; The Farmer sloshing to the barn Cries, "Durn it all, she s here." 10 [BY SPECIAL REQUEST] THE CANARY BIRD YOU thumbful of soft, yeller fluff- Say, where d you git all that stuff? A bustin loose the live-long day, Gee, you got a lot to say ! Cant nobody call you quitter. Way et you turn on that twitter. In back uh them black beads uh eyes You sure do tank a big supprise, Yer body, not a gill-cup long, Holds a plum barrelfula song. Whoopti-doodendoo-young-feller They gotcha when they tanned you yeller. 11 [BY SPECIAL REQUEST] ABBY LOUISE (A PORTRAIT) SILVER tresses fluff like seafoam bove her un- ribbed brow: Her warm, brown, autumn eyes with youth and springtime glow, And from them radiate fine tracings of her happy smile. Faint trails of experience bout her upcurved lips beguile The fancy her many charms enhance allure To deeper interest. Constructive purpose, true and sure, The builder s love of life and humankind Are hers. Love of truth, free speech, unfettered mind ; These and the strength of soul to speak the truth and walk upright, Holding aloft, for those who scoff, a liberating light. Thus Life, the artist of the soul, does blend the grace Of spirit with temporal beauties of her face. 12 [BY SPECIAL REQUEST] A HOUSEHOLD GOD OH, what do I see on the farther shore Of the stream where the path bends round the hill? Oh, what do I see thru the open door, That enthralls my gaze against my will? Oh, what do I see but a neighbor s child, With his hand in the grimy hand of Crime, And, beyond, where the path skirts the Rock of Chance, With his hourglass dripping blood, stands Time. I close the door gainst the sight of the child Who walks with Crime on the path of sin, And thank MY god that my dear son plays With Ease and Comfort safe within. 13 [BY SPECIAL REQUEST] MY KIND O GUY rpHEY S folks and folks in this yere world A All kinds, from fools to silly And good, too, but they s one kind makes A special hit with Willie. Taint him that s shootin up the place With lang-widge plum prodijous, And lets out guff bout everything On earth likewise ree-ligious I hates them kind that s long on gab And sloppyful o learnin The one that makes a hit with me Is long on jest discernin. It s him that savvies to a thing And knos it without bein Sure how he knos; he sorta seems To see it without seein. He jest rides herd on Big Idees And ropes em in in bunches Then keeps em in, and holds his yap And follers out his hunches. But always in his thot corral Them Big Idees keep brewin, And when one does break out aw, say ! Yuh gotta hand it to him. 14 [By SPECIAL REQUEST] JEST AROUND THE CORNER JEST around the corner The street is all a-shine With happy, yellow, golden glows A standin in a line, And the autumn air is stirrin The leaves to music sweet, And the mellow, autumn sunshine Is a lightin up the street. Blind and settin in the shadders Where the autumn breeze blows chill, When the children scamper past me, I can feel the sunshine thrill In their happy, eager voices As they turn the corner there Some cub ll allus stop and push Along my ol wheel chair. Leave my trouble in the shadders And set up straight an fine When he gits me round the corner Where the street is all a-shine. Seems like round the corner There is always somethin good, When they s troubles hoverin round you, And life s not understood There is always somethin cheery Like the golden glows in line, Awaitin round the corner Where the street is all a-shine. 15 [By SPECIAL REQUEST] PRAYER TO THE WAR GOD FILL me with thy spirit, O God of War, That I may encompass destruction. Smite me with the Hand of Power, That I may cringe to subjection. Blind mine eyes with the Iron of Necessity, That I may not See Visions. Fetter me to the Treadmill of Tradition, That my feet walk not in New Paths. Link with me the Ox of Fear, That my soul be consumed with Terror. Put upon me the Yoke of Hate, That it may chafe me to Madness. Bind me with the Thongs of Malice, That they may fret me to Violence. Choke me with the Clutch of Greed, That I may spew Venom. Scourge me with the Whip of Scorn, That it may inflame me to Fury. Sear me with the Brand of Cain, That I may be enraged to Murder. 16 [BY SPECIAL REQUEST] Slake my thirst with Blood of Mine Own, That its stench may enthrall my nostrils. Prod me with the Goad of Vengeance, That I may wrench from my Bonds and do Havoc. Give me the Torch of Lust, That I may blaze a Path to Hell. 17 [BY SPECIAL REQUEST] THE TUNELESS FIDDLE PA he s awful fond of music, Onct he bought a great, big fiddle, It s got a long neck an one laig, An he plays it crost its middle. Ma said such tricks she bet some day Would make Pa drain a bitter cup, He laft an winkt at me, an says, u jes wait, ol girl, till I tune up." Then he dresst up in his best soot An played, an kep time with his boot But the tune want nuthin but u zoot, Zuggity zoot, zug zoot, zug zoot." Pa dresses up in his best soot An he packs that fiddle down And plays to all the movie shows, An dances, an things in town. His soot s an nawful checkered one, All chuncks uh white an brown. Ma says you d think he owned the place For more n forty mile aroun, To see him there tappin his boot An smirkin roun in that best soot, Jes a playin that same ol "zoot, Zuggity zoot, zug zoot, zug zoot." 18 [BY SPECIAL REQUEST] Ma dont never go out with Pa, She s allus to home a-workin. Onct she got mad an went fer Pa ! Gee, you otta seen her jerkin Tubs an things an jawin Pa ! Said he s too plum fond uh shirkin, An he sure otta have more sense, An not be fer allus lurkin Roun no-count shows, in that best soot, Jest a plain nut, fiddlin galoot, Fiddlin away his time on "zoot, Zuggity zoot, zug zoot, zug zoot." 19 [BY SPECIAL REQUEST] ECSTASY I HAVE brought children into the world, I have en-bodied human souls, Sweet mouths have fed at my young breasts. I am linked eternally with youth, My feet prospect ascending paths; My mind invites inspiring scenes; No darkest hour can veil my vision, Nor can Death rob me of my glory. I have brought children into the world, I have en-bodied human souls, Even now Life feeds at my young breasts, And in my arms Lhold The Future. 20 [BY SPECIAL REQUEST] MY PROMPTER * M^^ s m & *" commanc ^ s m y ii tt: i e son iN As he creeps up in my lap, And nestles his head upon my breast, Prepared for a "dood, long nap." "Sing me sumfin nice," he pleads, As his rosy lips meet mine. "What shall I sing, my little boy?" "Oh, tails in a waggin a-hine." "Little Bo Peep has lost her sheep " So oft the tale I ve told, I can but wish those erst-while lambs Had never left the fold. My thoughts go straying like the sheep, I merely hum the line, My little son, as prompter, says, "Wiv tails in a waggin a-hine." Over again I sing the words Of the sheep from Bo Peep fleeting: Drooping lids close softly down As she "dreamt she heard them bleating." I kiss the eyes as I lay him down, My precious boy so fine; The white lids quiver he murmurs low, "Wiv tails in-a-waggin-ahine." 21 [By SPECIAL REQUEST] THE DEAD LIVING ROOM I AM alone. My children have left me. The little apartment that squeezed about us so tightly has expanded and grown cavernous and empty. I no longer bump into the furniture. It has shrunk into unaccustomed order and become pious and strange. The piano is asleep. Its usual covering of tum bled sheets of music is ranged carefully on the cabi net, the door of which does not stand ajar. Everything is in order. The rugs lie flat and unwrinkled. None of the draperies is loosened or askew. The shades hang straight and trim and at the same level across the windows. On the desk the blotting pad is unspotted. Pens and pencils lie primly in their little wooden grooves. Erasers and paper knives are properly placed. The ink bottles are covered. The machine drawers are tightly closed. Shears and scissors hang, each pair on its peg, like children s hats in a school closet. The colorful fruit, piled high in the basket, but yesterday it seems glowed a wanton invitation to quick destruction. Today it is untouched, precise and virtuous. Everything is in order. The morning paper is neatly folded. The couch pillows are plump and undented. 22 [BY SPECIAL REQUEST] No finger prints blur the polished sides of the bookcases. The books stand straight and austere in formal, unfriendly exactness; not one leans fa miliarly across to hobnob with his neighbor. In the darning basket, the stockings do not tum ble in a vari-colored heap, dripping over the edge. The diminished contents lie, compact, sober-hued, and dignified. Everything is in order The "boys table" Two old pipes and a half filled box of tobacco, a writing pad on which are a pencil sketch of a dog and a bridge score The room is suddenly filled with memories that push me back across the threshold Tremblingly I close the door quickly, and stand leaning against it, panting and with clenched hands. My little sons All at once they were men Soldiers!*** I am alone. [Bv SPECIAL REQUEST] INSOMNIA INTO the mystic silence of the night My thots intrude Eager questioning thots of coming day, Brooding, over-lapping thots of yesterday Prick my consciousness With sharp insistence. They push against my throbbing eyes And force the lids apart Vainly I search the black pocket of the night For keys to my perplexities. 24 [BY SPECIAL REQUEST] MOTHER ACROSS THE SEA OH, friend of mine with burning eyes Mother across the sea, To you my spirit has fared forth In deep answering agony. Oh, friend of mine with burning eyes On whose woe-darkened soul The brand of war has left its scar, I, too, in sons have paid the toll. When the world is crushed in the grasp of greed Must we ever stand passive by? With war-wracked hearts and heads meek bowed While our sons and our son s sons die? Shall arms of steel supplant our arms? Shall War crash through the years A bitter blight? Shall Might make right This monstrous thing of fears? May common grief in common cause Bring mothers from afar, Together, in expanding love, To rid the world of war. With hearts attuned we must impart The truth to coming ones, That Love of Race finds biding place In the souls of the sons of our sons. 25 [By SPECIAL REQUEST] SONG OF THE AIRMAN OUR grandcestors were pioneers And braved the raging sea, In a fragile boat that kept afloat But to reach its destiny. No greater risk than theirs is mine, My boat, wide-winged and swift, I navigate by grace of Fate, Fate kept theirs, too, adrift. Air, air, air, Elixir beyond compare! I long to be a pioneer And help to conquer the next frontier, The air, air, air. Our grandcestors were heirs to slaves And grants of land and sea, They were heirs to greed, heirs to creed, Heirs to plutocracy. They were heirs to customs of bygone years, And other antiques rare, But a greater legacy have we We re the heirs to the air. Air, air, air, Elixir beyond compare ! The only thing left to us that s free, Hail the real Democracy, The air,, air, air. 26 [By SPECIAL REQUEST] Our fathers built seagoing ships, And anchored ships of State, Towns born to fame bore many a name Of these men good and great. They builded businesses from which They built them castles rare, But there were none so fine as mine, My castles in the air. Air, air, air, Elixir beyond compare ! I ll steer my ship by my lucky star Straight to the place where my castles are, In the air, air, air. 27 [By SPECIAL REQUEST] YOUNG MANHOOD THE Future opens to my eyes My league with human destinies, In Life s great plan I hold my place, A father to the coming race. I am the mould of my own son, To him my weaknesses pass on, I am his strength who is to be, His wealth of health abides in me. The action of my heart will beat The march of progress for his feet; My conscience makes his conscience kind, My mind illuminates his mind. By my soul s vision will he be Enchained, or happily walk free. This be my creed as I go on He fails in all who fails his son. 28 [BY SPECIAL REQUEST] WATCHING FOR SANTA CLAUS A DOMESTIC play in one act and nine hundred <L\ and ninety-nine shivers. Scene : The hall, outside the nursery door. Time : Nine o clock Christmas Eve. Discovered omnes. Robert: (holding candle. Whispering.) Now come on kids, dont be s scairt. You all jes hold right on to me. Rowland: Aw, Gertrude s fraidl Gertrude : I aint one bit. Rowland: Y are. You re shakin. I kin see. Gertrude : I aint f raid, I m only cold. They s such big shivers in this hall. Don s awful fraid. Donald: Not needer fraid. Not needer not fraid. Not fraid a-tall. Rowland: Go head, Rob, you got the light. Robert: Well, then you ketch right hold uh me. Rowland: Your fraid yourself. Robert: I aint, it s you That s fraid jus fraid as you kin be. Rowland: I didn t say I wasn t. So ! The rest you kids are bout as fraid. Gertrude: We wont see Santa Claus a-tall If you big boys dont go ahead. Rowland: Gimme the candle. I ll go first. Robert: I wont. Don, hold to sister, see? Gertrude: Shall I hold on to Woland, too? 29 [By SPECIAL REQUEST] Robert: Yes, Rowl, you hold tight on to me. Come on, now. H-s-s-sh ! Cant you be still? Hold up your nightiest er y ll fall ! Gertrude : Which way ll we go ? Robert: Downstairs, uh course. We mustn t make a noise at all. Rowland: Y d better stop your talkin, then. Your whisprin makes a nawful noise. Donald I dint say nuffin; not no word. Did I, Wobbet? Gertrude : Oh, hurry boys ! Robert: Come on then Sh ! Say, what was that? Is that HIM, Rowland, do you spose? Gertrude : I wisht I had my stockins on. Donald: I m awful told wivout my tloes. Gertrude: Oh dear, I m fraid! Les go to bed. Rowland: If Gertrude s fraid, we better had. If Father comes an finds us here Robert: I bet that he d be awful mad. Donald : I fink I heard a nuvver noise. Rowland: So d I. Reindeers, I m almos sure. Donald : Oh, Wobbet, les us go to bed. Gertrude : I m fraid to watch out here some more. Robert: Say, Rowland, les us take the kids Both back an put em in their beds. Rowland Alright an go to bed ourselves Robert : Yes, an all cover up our heads ! (Exeunt hurriedly, nursery door.) 30 [Bv SPECIAL REQUEST] IN MOTHER S EYES RIGHT in the windows of your eyes I see a fairy, dear, Who polishes all day to keep The windows bright and clear. And when, one time I questioned her, She bobbed her dainty head, And smiling like a Summer day, "I m Mother-love," she said, "My joy it is the whole day thru To keep the windows bright for you. 31 [By SPECIAL REQUEST] HE HE S about the stillest person a body ever see, They aint one single thing I kno that he takes after me. The kids is mostly like me, tho, they re chatty, little folks. HE shets his mouth with his ol pipe an jes sets tight and smokes. You otta watch him when the kids they gits to slingin , gaff . HE LL pouch his mouth and squinch his eyes and rub his chin to laff. When they gits fresh they never mind, no matter what I say, But let HIM cluck, er lift his hand, they simmer right away. Out in the park on Sundays, no odds how big the crowd, HE hushes all that sets by him, his stillness is so loud. And when HE S gone away to work his stillness sticks around, Sost I go tiptoe half the time cant bear to make a sound. 32 [Bv SPECIAL REQUEST] The hardest time of all is when the kids is gone to bed, An jes the clock a-tickin is every word that s said. When I git mad an jaw, he only clears his throat. Gee, I ve listened to his silence till it s kinda got my goat. An I m ketchin of it off him sometimes I ve set so mum I ve went out and called the cat, to find out if I m dum. I spose my jawin this-a-way aint no airthly sorta use, But I d bottled up my feelins till I hadta jes bust loose. 33 [BY SPECIAL REQUEST] GARDENS AND SPRING I LOVE a garden in Spring Where the sweet-laden apple boughs swing, Where the birds and the bees, The brooks and the breeze, And the cute little Katydids sing. Spring and garden fair, Thrilling, trilling air, Meet my true love there, In a garden. I long for my dream to come true In a garden, this Springtime, I, too, With the birds and the bees, The brooks and the trees, Would sing my heart s true love to you. Spring beflowered and fair, Thrilling, trilling air, Meet me, my love, there, In the garden. 34 [BY SPECIAL REQUEST] A PRAYER MAY I meet them joyously What e re Life s seasons bring to me. Joyous when the Spring flow rs nod, Shy hopes of youth, above the sod. Joyous when the Summer s sun Rides high, or summer s skies are dun. Joyous when the Fall takes toll Of all the gardens of my soul. Joyous meet the snows caress, Should Winter find me shelterless. 35 [BY SPECIAL REQUEST] AN ARTLESS PARVENUE YES, I struck oil at Porter, bout three mile outa town. The little ranch I owned want quite the poorest land aroun, An when I struck that gusher that spurted up sky My land riz right accordin, to a million, purty nigh An I m rich. Aint it cur us, I didn t kno what t do? Want no great shakes at lazin roun, with nuthin t git thru, But Ma she pestered me with style, an Bess, too, done her part An made my life a burden tel she went t study art. Then we went t live at Denver an put on heaps uh style. Ma quarreled with her hired girls, an never cracked a smile. It s strange how awful contrawise these money ques tions are, What y haint got yer sure t want, an when yer lucky star Has riz up in a oil well, an yer money s flowin in, It brings sech trials you most wisht yer good an poor agin. I grinned an bore it faithful, swallrin down my achin heart Tel Bess come home from Paree, where she d ben t study art. 36 [By SPECIAL REQUEST] Well, I slep up in the attic, on a nice, clean straw tick, An Ma she slep in a buddoor, so French it made me sick. But Bess jest had t have a "paintin stoodeo," she sed, So they dolled up the attic an carted off my bed. I cant sleep good in Ma s buddoor, an so I go each day Out where I keep my ol team an nap there on the hay. Now, I aint no conoozier, but Ma says et Bess paints grand, An et I dont "presheate her," an I "dont under stand." I hot all her finished picters, an thot I done my part Oh, landy goshen! how I wisht Bess hadn t studied Art. She dont paint no scenery, jest riddle-de-rinctum things Big gobs uh color plastered on twixt curly-cues, an rings An crippled figgers, all bulged up, with not a stitch uh cloze Not no modesty bout em, but they s lot uh Art, I spose. I d like to have her paint the place an put in all of us, But I dont dast to say so, for fear Ma d make a fuss Gad! I d give more money right now, t hug her t my heart, Than I d give fer all her paintins of futurism Art. 37 [BY SPECIAL REQUEST] Our house aint what you might call home, it s jest a stoppin place, With Ma a-playin lady, an plasterin her face, An Bess a paintin horribles up in that stoodeo, An me sorta moonin roun with no neighbrin place t go- Gad ! I jest cant help from thinkin uh how it usta be Out on the ranch, so happy-like, Ma, an Bess, an me There we worked an planned together, but here we re all apart I jest mope roun, Ma puts on style, an Bess she studies Art. 38 [BY SPECIAL REQUEST] o, IN THE SHIP S HOLD Corporal of the Muleteers, What of thy work today? Jerkin the "dears" out by the ears And kickin em back to stay. It s hustling dung up, rung by rung, To the man who stands on deck And hate him for fare, for the breath of air That cools his turkey neck. It s cleanin stalls, between the hauls, With a hell-howl if we slips, That s somethin worse than the usual curse That croaks from our crackin lips. O, Corporal of the Muleteers, Pray tell me of thy fare? The mule-smell beats us to the eats, No matter where they are. We make a bluff to eat the stuff But, God, the taste of it! The seeping stink, defiles our drink, And we re too dry to spit. The stench of mules seeks out our souls As we on bum beds lie We re soaked in mule from head to heel And we ll smell it till we die. 39 [BY SPECIAL REQUEST] WHERE IS THE OUNCE THAT YESTERDAY? (A WEIGHTY QUESTION) WHERE is the ounce that yesterday did Cyn thia adorn? Where is that precious ounce of her that is not here this morn? Last ounce of sixteen treasured pounds twas gained within the week But yesterday this elf did paint a deeper rose her cheek. But yesterday a deeper grove did ring her winsome wrist, And rounder were the thighs of her, and arms with dimples kisst. Oh, big, wee ounce of Cynthia, that topped her latest pound Come sage and seer and tell me where that lost ounce may be found. 40 [BY SPECIAL REQUEST] FORCE OF HABIT PLEASE, Dickie, do, oh, Dickie do Forgive my grievous crimes, Of donting you and donting you So many, many times. As I look back it seems to me I ve donted you from birth. I ve donted all your weeping times And donted times of mirth. I ve donted little, harmless ills With great, big, vicious "DONTS" And donted many merry "wills" Into unhappy "wonts." For all this careless trespassing Upon the sacred ground Of this your character domain, I own a grief profound. Most fervently I pray that you, My sturdy Dickie, wont Hold all these donts against me do, Please, dear Dickie, dont. 41 [BY SPECIAL REQUEST] LITTLE DAFFYDILLY LOOK up, little daffydilly, dont you be afraid, I aint going to hurt you none, for I am jest a old maid, A little old maid with her hair turned gray, Who onct had a lover, but he was stole away; And of all the flowers I see about me to the left and right, I love you best, cause you wert his fave-orite. Yr Obt. Svt, PATTY PRIMROSE. 42 [BY SPECIAL REQUEST] AH! WOULDSTIWERT Ah ! wouldst I wert a meermaid To skim through the ayzure see To flipper flap my little fins And smile aloud in glee. Ah ! wouldst I wert a meermaid With teresses long and crimpt To float about my lingering form Whilst the ayzure see I skimpt. Anon would I glide around myself With menny a curling twist But ah! I am not a meermaid; What playsures I have mist. Whilst the meermaids skim the azyure see And comb their hairs with vim My work a lass keeps me to home And milk is all I skim. Yr Obt. Svt. PATTY PRIMROSE. 43 [By SPECIAL REQUEST] THE DANDIEST DAY rpHANKSGIVIN S jest the dandiest day 1 Of all the year Cept Chrismus; course that beats em all But Fourth- July, that s lots uh fun Say, aint it queer Et when yuh stop to think, an call Em over, one by one, Yuh jest cant say Which one is the dandiest day? I know what ! I m goin to say Thanksgivin s the dandiest day Et comes in fall. But, then, in fall comes Hallow-ween Hi ! swellest time yuh ever seen ! Fun? fudge! well you jest bet! We all Go ringin bells an scarin folks With tick-tacks gee an up so late. Pa said us fellers carries jokes Too fur. That s when we snuck our gate Clean out to Jonses pastcher. He Says us kids make heaps more noise N they did when him an his friends wuz boys. Pa s easy! He says, "Ay, gad! I swow, I never wuz quite so bad! But, then, all boys must have their fun." Oh, gee ! Hallow-ween s jim-hun! But think of dinner, me-oh-my, On Thanksgivin ! Yum-yum ! Punkin pie, 44 [BY SPECIAL REQUEST] An turkey, an nice cranberry sauce, An chicken pie, an marmulade, An oyster soup ma makes it boss, An cheese, an jam, an chowcalutt cake The finest kind et s ever made An eat, an eat till you most die, An git a-nawful bellie-ache ! Then eat some more ; oh fudge ! You eat so much you jest cant budge. Aint no one et beats me, you bet. Ma says she s pos-itive I can Eat more that day an any man She ever see. Oh, gee ! When it s right here, I say, Thanksgivin s sure the dandiest day. 45 [BY SPECIAL REQUEST] THE ONE-YEAR-OLD LADY WHERE is the winsome lady fair Who is one year old today? ***My sakes, not you? *** Tut! have a care You re surely two.*** What s that you say?*** *** Just one small year? *** Dear me, that s queer. You are big and smart Enuff for two.*** Pardon?** Yes, I do. *** That is absurd. I have the word Of both your parents for it, dear. I kno it all by heart: Each tiny ear Is like a shell, That has a mystic, magic spell. Your cheeks are dainty, peach-blow pink, Teeth like daisy petals white, Eyes the blue of skies at night. The flush of morning s on your brow, On dimpled toes and paddie tips; A glint of gold in lashes fair, The glow of sunlight in your hair You must not think, I do not kno. No brooch of gold I need to hold 46 [Bv SPECIAL REQUEST] The imprint of your precious face, Parental love with cunning art Has painted it within my heart. *** Yes, that s the case. *** Oh, well, You must not care if they do tell. I know tis true, Virginia, you Are the sweetest, Darlingest, completest, Lovingest, prettiest, Brightest, dearest, wittiest, Sunniest, Honeyest, Cutest and best *** *** Oh, you do know the rest? ***Oh *** So, You have heard them before? *** What! Not all in one day? *** As many as that? I don t wonder you say Tis a terrible bore.*** Oh, I see, something new Dearie me, just for you? *** Don t mention*** *** Tis my intention To do it right now Put my thinking cap on and see if there maybe A new love term coined for our One-Year-old Lady. 47 [By SPECIAL REQUEST] HIS PHILOSOPHY IF Santle Claus is Santie Claus And I wont say he aint him, cause, If I should say it, dont you see, And he s like what he seems to be, The best old fellah in the land, He mightent not quite understand I thot he was, till Cousin Ned Said Santie s a "pertend," an said That him an Mary found it out A long, long time ago. For bout A year he s onto all that stuff That Santie s nothing but a bluff. They cant fool him with their old jokes, He knos that Santie s just our folks. Just cause Ned s bigger some than me He thinks that I should otta gree With evrything he says, but, gee, That really, truly couldent be. How could they get that photygraft Of Santie shaking when he laft Like a bowl of jelly? And how, If he aint living, do they kno About his pack and reindeer sled? An, I m just going to tell old Ned That he s all wrong. That stuff aint so, Santie s not just folks we kno. I kno he s had his pitchers took, 48 [BY SPECIAL REQUEST] For they re all in my Christmas book. And I kno he s Him, cause aw cause Nobody looks like Santie Claus. 49 [BY SPECIAL REQUESTJ MY ELECTRICAL FAN OH, the soft whirr of my humming-bird fan, The breeze from its fairy wings blown, Like the bland breath of Neptune across the dark wave, When the god of day has gone down. Come visions of youth, carefree and at ease, That waft from its pinions aflight The dear old home place, with broad, stretching fields, In the coolness and calm of the night; The low-lying house at the top of the hill, That the arms of the big elm tree span; The soft, swaying breezes I loved as a boy They come to me now from my fan. The sound of the bee, as home to the hive With his burden of honey he swings, And the low, crooning lilt of the wind in the pines, I catch from my fan s rhythmic wings. If I must live afar from the open-road way, In the haunts of the business-tried man, Let cool breezes waft to me visions of old From the swing of my swift moving fan. 50 [By SPECIAL REQUEST] SPRING GETS ME WHOOP-ER up, Pe-gas-us, hi ! Spring is in the air. Old Marm Trouble s done gone died Along with Old Marm Care. Life is as sweet to me As honey in the hive. Whoop-er up, Pe-gas-us, gee ! I m glad I m alive. Whoop-er up, Pe-gas-us, yip ! Spring is in the air. I m so bustin full of happiness I gotta yell for fair. I m young and I m strong And there s ginger in my blood. Whoop-er up, Pe-gas-us, gosh ! We gotta make good. Whoop-er up, Pe-gas-us, yah ! I ve stretched out my chest Till my darn-fool heart s near kickin off The flowers on my vest. Dont mind tellin you, ol hoss, Love s wig-wagged my code An, SHE S waitin at the Parson s wow Peg, burn up the road ! 51 [BY SPECIAL REQUEST] A THANK YE MA AM (TO THE MA OF A MUSICAL FAMBLY.) WHEN Vivyun sings the music rings And eckos in my ears For hours and days right there it stays And tunes up all I hears. And your young Lute with that there flute, He never plays it wrong, But thin and shrill each tremblin trill Melts into Vivyun s song. Then yore old man fits in the plan And sings to soot me, too. I wont forget rite soon, you bet, That "Old Gum-tree Canoo." When Raff draws bow, so sweet and low, Acrost them fiddel strings, I feel jest like my soul could hike And hitch onto its wings. And then they s you, a helpin thru, And addin to the sport Them yard an yards of scrumptious cords On that pianyfort. 52 [By SPECIAL REQUEST] Right on the jump you make them hump From re veil e to taps Lute, Vivyun, Raff, your better half And Billie with his traps. At first you re gay and then you play Sad tunes that grip my spine, And fore I know it s time to go, You re playing Old Lang Zine. And when young Lute from that there flute Shakes out that lonesome note That wails and weeps, it gives me creeps And gorges up my throat. I want to say when I go way, That "I ve enjoyed the chance " But, shucks ! I fill up like a poisoned pup And growl "good night" in pants. 53 [By SPECIAL REQUEST] THE DREAMER THE years are shorter now than when a child You dreamed your way through them and oft beguiled Your leisure hours with thots of Things to Be When in two parts your years you d spell then three When you should be thirteen and then as old as Twenty-one! From that vast sum you took away the years already gone To add them to the years to be but made them longer grow, But eight away from twenty-one left u just thirteen to go." As years dragged slowly then, so after-time they flew Too very, very soon the old to greet the new. Then came the dreamless time, the time when you looked back, To grasp the scheme of life, along the beaten track. The unknown way confronting youth, Became the known, the dream the truth. Twas not your childhood vision but the years came true, The time of which you d dreamed was now a part of you. 54 [BY SPECIAL REQUEST] And then again you dreamed looked through to the unknown, Eager to make the untried, future years your own. And grasping them, your arms stretched out for more, Praying that they might come whate er their store; The incidents they held for you of happiness or strife Meant naught they were the privilege them selves were life. * * * The Dreaming One lifts high Time s glass To watch the hours thread thru, Exulting that each grain must move To keep the rythm true, And tho his hours he may not count He knows they have their place That each and every human life Threads thru allotted space. 55 [BY SPECIAL REQUEST] AUTUMN SNAP SHOTS (From Harrisburg to Baltimore ) An early grey morning breaking into smiles Over the top of a sleepy forest. A little, lean, old village hobbling along The sluiceway to an old mill. Big, brown hills lying like huge, shaggy nuts On fertile meadows. A shiftless town sprawling on all fours From ridge to ridge up a slatternly slope. Neat, trim rugs of emerald green, spring wheat, Hugged close to Mother Earth, Between rows of ragged, unkempt corn shocks With scrawny arms outstretched as if to beg for alms. Three brown hunters two men and a dog Silhouetted against the warm-hued sky At the top of a sepia hill. A fat, self-satisfied, old town, with narrow, Muddy roads. Rows of complacently shabby houses Face each other across a stream That, like themselves, has seen better days. 56 [By SPECIAL REQUEST] The lean, the sleek, the loud, the meek, The calm, the flurried, the slow, the hurried, The cross, the happy, the sweet, the scrappy, Preceding me along the aisle, In answer to the luring smell, And, "de fust call fo breakfus in de dinin cah!" 57 [Bv SPECIAL REQUEST] A CLIMATIC CULMINATION THE Flu it tackled Jimmie Puntz an with him hard it tussled, Thru ev ry muscle, nerve and vein, an tooth an toe it hustled. It toddled up his spinal col m an jazzed around his thorax ; It snitched his sense of smell an made his tongue as dry as borax; It opened up his right tear duct, until that eye was pourin; It shut his left eye, swole his cheeks an set his ears a roarin. It closed his nasal passages an sagged his mouth wide open, For steen weeks with that tuff microbe, the poor gink was a copin. v Jim s friends an family agreed twas Flue that ailded Jimmie, And recommended ev rything, from blue mass to the shimmie. Some started him with Swoboda, then Bennett an McFadden Positions curly, straight, zigzag not one but he felt bad in. Then other friends said "liver wrong," "inharmony" "an error" "Try pinkless pellets," "trust your guides," "elim inate your terror." 58 [BY SPECIAL REQUEST] He allopathed an harmonized, seanced an mental scienced, Took pills an treatments an advice from Ma s to his affianced. He homypathied, ostypathied, had a chiropractor, Was pinched an twisted till he s sure he hit a skid- din tractor. He boiled in mud at min ral springs, took baths in tubs and spatters, Pill Jimmie with that pesky gherm was almost wore to tatters. Then Skinny Jim went travelin, an kept a goin west ward But never once did Jimmie s turn begin a growin vestward, Till he struck California, when he was well nigh blooey That place where Climate s born and raised, babe- ruthed that Flu gherm fluey. 59 * . VC 14542 46278^ UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY