LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA. Class K 5" Ben King s Verse BEN KING S VERSE EDITED BY NIXON WATERMAN INTRODUCTION BY JOHN McGOVERN BIOGRAPHY BY OPIE READ CHICAGO FORBES & COMPANY 1912 COPYRIGHT, 1894, 1898 BY ASENETH BELL KING SIXTEENTH PRINTING THE DRAWINGS IN THIS VOLUME ARE CONTRIBUTED BY CHAS. A. GRAY, W. W. DENSLOW, H. G. MARATTA, RAY BROWN, F. HOLME, J. T. MCCUTCHEON, HORACE TAYLOR, WM. SCHMEDT- GEN, T. E. POWERS, AND HARRY O. LANDERS. COVER AND TITLE-PAGE DESIGNED BY HOWARD BOWEN. 22/# to An i INTRODUCTION OO FAR as we know, this young man, now so suddenly dead, was the drollest mimic and gen tlest 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 unap proachable modesty 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 fur nace, fainted at the pedals, and was carried out rigid by supers the greatest pianist of any age. He wrote If I Should Die To-night" a parody that was accepted as the true original, the sun, the center of the 227157 Introduction great If-I-should-die-to-night 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 undi- minishing laughter upon the gambols of Ben King. He was coldly, then not coldly, then warmly received by the church fairs, the clubs, and the Elks, 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 Bowl ing 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 per formances with complacence, laughing as if we vi Introduction owned him and had ourselves ordered his latest jeu d j esprit. We deplored the untimely moment of his end; we held beautiful, solemn and impressive memorial serv ices 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 affec tionately, 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. JOHN McGovERN. BIOGRAPHY T> ENJAMIN FRANKLIN KING, JR., was born *-* at St. Joseph, Michigan, March 17, 1857, and died at Bowling Green, Kentucky, April 7, 1 894. He was married Nov. 27, 1 883, 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 and Spencer P. King, survive him. While yet a child, music came to Ben King as an inspiration. 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 busi ness, he was pronounced a failure not by those who had warmed themselves in the glow of his poetic ix Biography 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, St. 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. Every company was brightened by his coming, every man felt better for having heard his quaint re marks. There was about him a droll, a charming irresponsibility a Thomas Hood from Michigan. I find, as I have found for the fiftieth time while striving to write these lines, that I am still too much under the shock caused by his death to write dispas sionately of him. My judgment, 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." OPIE READ. Contents CULTURED GIRL AGAIN, THE 211 DAY AND THE SHINGLE, THE 262 DE BLACKBIRD FETCH DE SPRING 01 DE BUGLE ON DE HILL 5 6 DE CIRCUS TURKEY j^o DE CLOUDS AM GWINE TER PASS 102 DE CUSHVILLE HOP 213 DE EYARFQUAKE l ^ DE GOOD SHIP ^! DE MASSA jg^ DE RIBBER OB LIFE 122 DE SPRING-HOUSE 167 DE SUN S COMIN BACK 34 DE WATAH MELLEN SPLOSHUN 267 DECORATE DE CABIN 204 DIDN T WE, JIM? 147 DOWN IN WALHALLALAH 248 DOWN THE MISSISSIPPI gr DREAMY DAYS 208 Ec-A-LEC- TIC FlTS ir 2 ELOPEMENT 1 ? EVOLUTION ^ FATES, THE ^ FLOWER S BALL, THE 30 FROG S THANKSGIVING, A 113 xil Contents GEDDER IN Yo GRAIN GIRL WITH THE JERSEY, THE 95 GITTIN MY SOUL INTER SHAPE 3 GORD ONLY KNOWS 2I 5 GRAVE MATTERS 2 3 ! HAIR-TONIC BOTTLE, THE 128 HANK SPINK 1 1 5 HEART OF HEARTS 2 54 HER FOLKS AN HIZ N 17 How HANK DIED 22 How OFTEN 2 4 HUCCUM IT so ? 2 ^5 I FED THE FISHES i 8 IF I CAN BE BY HER 5 IF I SHOULD DIE l IF MY WIFE TAUGHT SCHOOL 96 FM A BLUEJAY 65 INJUN SUMMAH 200 INTRODUCTION vl ir JANE JONES Io JES TAKE MY ADVICE 217 KEEP HIM A BABY 155 LEF DE OLE Hoss OUT i 5 LEGEND OF THE ST. JOSEPH 2 4 LIKE DE OLE MULE BES 119 xiii Contents LIKE THE NEW FRIENDS BEST 7 3 LITTLE JUDE 244 LITTLE PUCKEN SINGER 246 LITTLE RASMUS 78 LOVEY-LOVES I I 4 MARY HAD A CACTUS PLANT 261 MERMAID, THE 89 Miss BAHTHOLAMEW 270 NEGRO SONG OF HOME, A 75 NILE, THE 1 1 7 NOBODY KNOWS 80 No HARM DONE 41 OLD MUSICIAN S FATE, THE 220 OLD SPINNING WHEEL, THE 98 OLD ST. JOE 58 OLE BOSSIE Cow 1 1 1 OWL AND THE CROW, THE 100 PARAPHRASE 47 PATRIOTISM AND A PENSION 218 PESSIMIST, THE 225 PINKEY i 80 POST-DRIVER, THE 149 PRESQUE ISLE 161 RASTUS KING 67 RECORD F OM WAY BACK, A 227 xiv Contents RETROSPECTION, A 196 RIVER ST. JOE, THE 36 SAD FATE OF YIM YONSON 237 SANTA S PRESENTS Fo DE GOOD 250 SAY WHEN, AND SAY IT 2 SHE DOES NOT HEAR 83 SOFIE JAKOBOWSKI 133 S POSIN 77 ST. PATRICK S DAY 198 SUMMER S AFTERNOON, A 104 SUNRISE 144 SYCAMORE 255 THANKSGIBBIN IN OLE VIRGINNY 229 THAT CAT 1 1 2 THAT VALENTINE 70 TRAMP, THE 61 TOBOGGAN 54 ULTIMATUM ,THE 206 UNDER OBLIGATIONS 171 Vi VIGUERS 273 VOLAPUK 259 WHEN THE STAGE GITS IN 209 WOODTICKS, THE 145 YALLER JACKETS NEST, THE 20 ZACCHEUS 193 XV IF I SHOULD DIE TF I should die to-night And you should come to my cold corpse and say, Weeping and heartsick o er my lifeless clay If I should die to-night, 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 that?" If I should die to-night 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 to-night And you should come to me, and there and then Just even hint bout payin me that ten, I might arise the while, But I d drop dead again,, SAY WHEN, AND SAY IT \T7RITE me a poem that has n t been writ, Sing me a song that hasn t been sung yet, String out a strain that has n t been strung, And ring me a chime that has n 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 unwary, A cherub abreast with the saints up above, And I 11 get along and be passably merry. But come on the fly to me, come on the jump, Do n 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 do n t you talk to me. 9 GITTIN INTER SHAPE T) ECKON 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 ; So I se gittin my soul inter shape, Girtin my soul inter shape, fo yo see Hit s a mighty big stone dat s layin on me, Mighty big stone ! Yes, indeedy ! I hope de good angel will hab heaps o strength, Or else bring old Samson 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 iakin is toll ; Ready ter lay down my burden an rest, Ready ter take up de cross ob de blest, Ready ter entah de fol . 3 Gittin Inter Shape Gittin my soul inter shape, doan yo see ; Dar s a big load ob sin bin restin on me, Big load ob sin ! Yes, indeedy! Yes, indeedy! EVOLUTION 1T7E 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 allers been here more or less, An 1 seem to establish the fact. O course at s somepin at nobody knows, As far as I ve read or cun 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 Up 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 stones has riz 5 Evolution Bout what the sun s made of or how it s composed, An* lots of em think that it is. O course at s somepin at nobody knows Nobody under the sun ; Nary a body or bein , I s pose; Nary a bein but One. Take Eva Lution, an what does she say Bout how we all sprung from a ape ? An there s the goriller and big chimpanzee, 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 did n t have fur to spring either. Course at s somepin at every one knows ; I 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 ; 6 Evolution 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, Nary a bein but One. GEDDER IN YO GRAIN TT*\E ole plow hoss is busy *^Breshin flies off wid his tail, De ole dog s got a move on him Dat s zackly like a snail. De meddeh grass is noddin En off yondah in de lane I kin hyar de tree toads warnin "Bettah gedder in yo grain." Doan yo hyar de frogs a-gurglin* * Dar out yondah in de pond ? What s de mattah wid de catbird, Doan yo hyar his voice respond ? Ain t de hull of em a-tellin yo In language mighty plain, "Doan be frivlin way yo moments, Bettah gedder in yo grain." Ain t de bumble bee a-hummin Mongst de clovah tops an flowahs, 8 Gedder in Yo Grain Whilst de ole clock am a-tickin j way De minutes an de houahs ? Chile, yo s got to be a-hus lin To ketch de wisdom train. Doan waste no opportunities, But gedder in yo grain. JANE JONES JANE JONES keeps talkin to me all the time, An says you must make it a rule To study your lessons nd work hard nd learn, An never be absent from school. Remember the story of Elihu Burritt, An how 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 ! O course what s a-keepin me way from the top, Is not never havin no blacksmithing shop. She said at Ben Franklin was awfully poor, But full of ambition an brains ; An studied philosophy all his hull life, An see what he got for his pains ! Fie brought electricity out of the sky, With a kite an a bottle an key, 10 Jane Jones An we re owing him more n any one else For all the bright lights at we see. Jane Tones she honestly said it was so ! Mebbe he did I dunno ! O course what s allers been hinderin me Is not havin any kite, lightning, er key. 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 nd Italians, too, An all of em said twas a dream. 13 Jane Jones But Queen Isabella jest listened to him, Nd pawned all her jewels o worth, J Nd bought him the Santa Maria nd said, "Go hunt up the rest o j the earth !" Jane Jones she honestly said it was so ! Mebbe he did- I dunno ! O course that may be, but then you must allow They ain t no land to discover jest now ! ELOPEMENT T 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; Elopement 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 affair; But her father and mother And sister and brother "Well none of the family is there. HER FOLKS AN HIZ N TLTE maird her cause she had money an some Property left from er husband s income; But 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 had n 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 twas n t for her well, he d have to saw wood. 17 Her Folks An Hiz n 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 they 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. So her folks an hiz n, Er hiz n an her n, Never spoke to each other, From 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. 18 Her Folks An Hiz n 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 do n t go; but I think it a pity That her folks an hiz n, An hiz n an her n, Never speak to each other, From what I can learn. THE TALLER JACKETS NEST I F I could only wander back To boyhood jest one day, So st I could have my chice agin Of games we used to play, I d let the kites an marbles go, An say, " Come on, boys ! let s All go out a-huntin fer The yaller jackets nest." Jest to lay up in the shadder Of the fence once agin Of the old vacant lot At the cows pastured in, Where the dandelions were bloomin , N 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, 20 The Yaller Jackets Nest With her sun-bonnet a-hangin back N 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 buzzin* At brings lonesome memories, Fer it seems as if I heerd her say "You better look out, lest They all swarm out and sting yeh From the yaller jackets nest." Sometimes I think I hear er voice An see er eyes of blue, That borried all their color from The sky at peeks at you Between the clouds in summer After rain has fell an blessed The flowers an openin blossoms Round the yaller jackets nest. HOW OFTEN IP HEY stood on the bridge at midnight, In a park not far from town ; They stood on the bridge at midnight Because they did n 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. How often, oh ! how often They whispered words so soft ; How often, oh ! how often, How often, oh! how oft. 24 BENTON HARBOR, MICH. OOMETIMES I ain t a thing to do, an so jist for the nonce, I think of things I did n 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 did n t see. I went all through 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 bildin s that was prom nent on the grounds, Got in with a C lumbian guard and we jist went the rounds. 25 Benton Harbor, Mich. I says to him, "I m here this week to take the hull thing in ; I might not git a chance to go against the thing agin. Outside o horterculture 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 heerd the tom-tom bands. I ve seen enough of Egypt, n Algiers, nd ancient Rome, An now I in jist a-spilin for somepin 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, Mich. 26 Benton Harbor, Mich. So comin out from there I says, < We 11 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 walked 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 Sagi- naw; 27 Benton Harbor, Mich. Them folks at raises celery way out in Kal mazoo, Cassopolis, an Globeville, an Ypsilanti, too St. Joe an* Berrien Centre." I guess I got my wish, I jined the jays an we went back to Benton Harbor, Mich, ASPHODEL /BAREST 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 chamber door In days of old. Those mellow days of yore. Ah, no, sweet flower, say not farewell, I pray ; But 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. 29 Benton Harbor, Mich. Them folks at raises celery W ay O ut in Kal mazoo, Cassopolis, an Globeville, an Ypsilanti, too St. Joe an* Berrien Centre." I guess I got my wish, I jined the jays an we went back to Benton Harbor, Mich, ASPHODEL BAREST 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 chamber door In days of old. Those mellow days of yore. Ah, no, sweet flower, say not farewell, I pray ; But let thine odor loiter yet a while, And linger thou beside my lonely way, Spreading thy perfume. And each tender leaf, Sparkling with dew, like tears in eyes of grief; Eager am I to pluck thee from thy stem, To have thee near, and in thy fragrance dwell, Trusting thee ever, fairy Asphodel. THE FLOWERS BALL is an olden story, Tis a legend, so I m told, How the flowerets gave a banquet, In the ivied days of old; How 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, Each in its lolling loveliness, Exhaled a perfume rare. An orchestra of Blue Bells Sat upon a mossy knoll 30 The Flowers Ball And pealed forth gentle music That quite captured every soul. The Holly hocked a pistil Just to buy a suit of clothes, And danced with all the flowerets But the modest, blushing Rose. The Morning Glory shining Seemed reflecting all the glow Of dawn, and took a partner ; It was young Miss Mistletoe. 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 every 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 Flowers Ball 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 waltzed him down the line Till they ran against old Sunflower With Miss Honeysuckle Vine. The others at the party that Went whirling through the mazy 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. 32 The Flowers Ball The only flower that sent regrets And really could n t come, Who lived in the four hundred, was The vain Chrysanthemum. One floweret at the table Grew quite ill, we must regret, And every posy 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 j When just to fill the last quadrille, The little China Aster. 33 DE SUN S COMIN BACK TTUSH! chillun, 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 ! chillun, hush ! Foh de sun s done come back agin, Pushin yaller glory roun in ebbery spot it finds, Dancin on de cradle An eld Chloe wid de ladle, An coaxin out de blossoms on De honeysuckle vines. Hush ! chillun, hush ! Kase de sof winds come back agin, Back agin, a-bringin all de glory ob de spring ; 34 De SunV Comin Back My heart s jes a-throbbin* For off yondah is de robin, An* de blackbird am a-cluckin* An* I low I heerd im sing. Hush ! chillun, hush ! Kase de sun s done come back agin, Bringin back de fac* agin I se gittin mighty old; I often sit and pondah, An* I wondah, an* I wondah, How many times it s comin back Befo I reach de fold. 35 THE RIVER ST. JOE X If 7HERE 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 catbird 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 By the side of the placid old River St. Joe ! How oft on its banks I have sunk in a dream, Where the willows bent over me kissing the stream, My boat with its nose sort of resting on shore, While the cat-tails 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 did n 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. 36 The River St. Joe Where the tall grasses nod at the close of the day, And the sycamore s shadow is slanting away Where the whip-poor-will chants from a far distant limb Just as if the whole business was all made for him. Oh! it s now that my thoughts, flying back on the wings Of the rail and the die-away song that he sings, Brings the tears to my eyes that drip off into rhyme, And I live once again in the old summer time ; For my soul it seems caught in old time s under-tow And I m floating away down the River St. Joe. 39 BABY UP AT BATTENBERG S TTEERD bout what s happened ? Why o* 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 roan the house, Folks on tiptoe 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 ! " Daddy happier n a clam ! Mother doin well ; Baby up at Battenberg s, Haven t ye heerd tell ? Upon the death of the late Lord Tennyson, Mr. King fancied him self an applicant for the position of Poet Laureate and produced this poem as his recommendation to the Appointing Power. 40 NO HARM DONE EXCUSE me, Mr. Handy, for a-droppin you a line, But the fact is, I ve arrived in town and feelin mighty fine ; * m stoppin* at the Press Club, er that s where I take my meals, An* I must 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 M 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 they is n t, I 11 say I s just in fun, An we 11 just let it go at that They s no harm done. No Harm Done Say, Handy, what I want is so s I can push my phiz All round the hull World s Fair grounds an see everything they is, An* when a C lumbian guard comes up unmannerly and gruff, I 11 flash the pass you give me, Handy, that Ml be enough, An passin on an mirrorin my face in the lagoon Where that fellow is a-standin now what s his name ? Neptune. I want to see you, Major, yes, I want to grasp your fin, Cause I know at you could work some scheme Of gittin of me in. Course, if you say they is n t, I Ml say I s just in fun, An* we Ml just let it go at that They s no harm done. I want to see the state buildin s an all ther is there, I want to see that queer machine that turns out com pressed air, Th* Administration Buildin an th Agricultural Hall I tell you, Major, honesMy, I want to see it all. I Ml be alone mos* of the time an* nothin *s goin* to please 42 No Harm Done Me better than to get acquainted with those Javanese. Don t say a word! Say, Handy, I must brace you agin: Is they any possibility Of gittin of me in ? Course, if you say they is n t, I 11 say I s just in fun, An* we 11 just let it go at that They s no harm done. I ve read the weekly papers, Major, out at old St. Joe, They ain t been nothin* in em at the country folks don t know. Some wants to see machinery, some paintin s, an 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. Oh, Handy, you must fix some scheme Of gittin of me in. 43 No Harm Done Course, if you say they is n t, I 11 say I s just in fun, An* we 11 just let it go at that- They s no harm done. THE FATES T^ORTUNE came to a youth one day and dressed im Up in his best. While Society smiled and caressed im, Along came Toil with a hammer and saw to test im 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 im. Frivolity came on bicycle wheels and turned im; Remorse at last came up and stung im and burned im And all three churned im. 45 The Fates Poverty opened his door and found im and sought im ; Paralysis, crouched in a corner, had finally caught im ; Idleness claimed the prize because she d taught im But all three got im. Old Charon rowed up in Time s canoe and ferried im Over the creek, when an undertaker hurried im, Dropped sand on his box, while a parson talked and worried im But the whole crowd buried im. PARAPHRASE E master of the manor house each morn Upon 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 back with swaying form ; he meets The faithful footman, and, his charger placed, He 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 the red-combed chanticleer, With horse and hound and merry crowd now bent Upon 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. 47 Paraphrase 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!" B-b-but I I only s-s-stack the hay. 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 : with out The scurrying leaves. So lonely am I now I ve wandered here to ask whatever betide. V/ouldst cease thy work ? Pray, must you toil to-day?" " W-w-well, yes," Is-s-say, "I have t-t-to s-s-stack the hay." " Ah, sir ! " she then replied : "A banquet spread But yesternight for me with many guests 48 Paraphrase 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-stacl the hay." The days roll on and now a blase youth Rides by the manor house. A reaper he In wisdom s fields. No importuning maid Bade him alight. She beckons. Quick he opes The gates, and, hastening to the banquet halls, He drinks to her, and, pledging endless love, They fly to distant parish. Now the hills And vales and lands that roll away are his. While I, down here in meadow-lands all day, I only s-s-stack the hay. 49 IF I CAN BE BY HER T D-D-DO N Tc-c-c-are how the r-r-r-obin sings, Er how the r-r-r-ooster f-f-flaps his wings, Er whether t sh-sh-shines, er whether t pours, Er how high up the eagle s-s-soars, If I can b-b-b-be by her. I 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-common sense, I d c-c-c-cuh-climb the highest p-picket fence If I could b-b-b-be by her. If I can be by h-h-her, I 11 s-s-swim The r-r-r-est of life thro th-th-thick an thin ; I 11 throw my overcoat away, An s-s-s-stand out on the c-c-c-oldest day, If I can b-b-b-be by her. You s-s-see sh-sh-she weighs an awful pile, B-b-b-but I d-d-d-do n t care sh-she s just my style, 50 If fan Be By Her An any f-f-fool could p-p-p-lainly see She d look well b-b-b-by the side of me, If I could b-b-b-be by her. I b-b-b-braccd right up, and had the s-s-s-and To ask er f-f-f-father f-f-fer er hand ; He said: " Wh-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 Christmas Day, Fer then we re goin to r-r-r-run away, An then s-s-some th-th-thing that cu-cu-couldn t be At all b-b-efore will then, you s-s-see, B-b-b-because I ll b-b-b-be by her. 53 TOBOGGAN TP\OWN 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 and 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 ! " 54 Toboggan Down from the hills like an arrow we fly, Or a comet that whizzes along through the sky; Down from the hills ! Oh, is n 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 nearing 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 ai e ringing out Old Father Time; Down from the hills we are riding away, Nearing the life with its endless day; Toboggan ! Toboggan ! Toboggan ! 55 DE BUGLE ON DE HILL T DOAN like de noise ob de marchin ob de boys, An I low doan s pose I evah will ; Er de trampin ob de feet to de drum s wild beat, Er de sound ob de bugle on de hill. Hit minds me ob de day when Gabe marched away En ole mnsus stood beside de cabin do ; Somepin whispahed in my ear bout my little vol unteer, An* said he nevah will come back no mo . I membah now de day jes how he marched away, Wid de bright surt er climbin up de sky, Marched out en down de street to de drum s wild beat, Den dey fetched him home to die. Oh, de sad en moanful way, po old missus kneeled ter pray, When Gabe said: "Hit s gittin mighty still." De Bugle On De Hill But I rise en jine de boys when I hear de cannon s noise, Er de blowin ob de bugle on de hill. Hit pears es if I seen de ole plantation green, En sometimes I sho ly think I hear De regiment pars by, en low I hear de cry En de moan ob my little volunteer. En I see de moanful way po ole missus kneel to pray, En sometimes when all aroun is still, I kin hear de tread ob feet to de drum s wild beat En de blowin ob de bugle 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 rest, Jes* peacefully er sleepin in de calms. En de drum s wild beat er de tread ob marchin feet No mo kain t disturb im now until De Lord gibs command, den I know he 11 rise en stand At de sound ob de bugle on de hill. OLD ST. JOE all the towns that jest suits me 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 ; Er 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 riggers, never mindin That old lake spread out below, Reflectin em at Old St. Joe. 5* Old St. Joe Underneath, them cedar trees S where I used to take my ease. Birds a-singin all along The hedge, an* each one had a song An sung its best to let you know They jist got back to Old St. Joe. They ain t no purtier site tome That is, cordin* to my idee Than jist to watch the gulls at fly Round that old pier ; an hear J em cry An circle round. It pears they know Fishin s good at Old St. Joe. Course the people over there They don t notice em or care What they re worry in bout is frost, N whether strawberries is lost ; Yet they pear to take things slow, Jist the same as Old St. Joe. Ceptin rheumatiz, their health Is middlin good, an as fer wealth They got that, an lots o land ; Course the sile is mixed ith sand ; But that s what makes the berries grow Over there at Old St. joe. 59 Old St. Joe Take it gener ly, as a rule, A feller likes where it s cool, Where he can sleep, an drink in air That comes perfumed from orchards where The peach trees jist begin to Mow ; Then where s a place like Old St. Joe ? Such cool breeze blowin back Keeps the skeeters makin tack N the flies they mostly stay Up round Pipestone creek, they say. Tell you what, one thing I know They ain t no flies on Old St. Joe. THE TRAMP T TE came from where he started And was going where he went. He had n 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. He 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 !" 61 THE CHAUTAUQUAN MAID OHE 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. 62 The Chautauquan Maid She did n t say, " I Ml learn yuh," But "teach you" that Calphurnia Sewed fifty-seven buttonholes in Julius Czesar 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 cassowary, 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 did n 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 Mada gascar. She could scan iambic meter, And she knew each Roman prastor, And surprised me when she told the way the empire came to fall. 63 The Chautauquan Maid The Huns sneaked in the forum, And the Romans tried to floor em, But they got themselves in trouble, and, of course, got whipped, by Gaul. I M A BLUEJAY T M a bluejay, nd never mind A F my toe does stick out behind. When I ketch on a limb I m there for keeps Lesn I let go. Of course I must eat. Sometimes, you know, I have to jes let go O that hind toe. I m a dead sure thing in spring. As soon s the weather s kind o* warm You 11 notice me on a fence. I feel immense In my blue suit. The woods can ketch my chirp ; You hear my toot From then out f you do n t shoot At my blue suit. 65 I m a Blue] ay I put ripe cherries in my face, Same place I wedge all the bugs ; An do n t you ever think At I m no good An sponge my way. Do I? I guess I ll foolyuh, I eat yer durn "circulia." I guess I work my way F I am a jay. RASTUS KING A S you happen jes to mention I *T Old time friends at sort o bring Mem ries back, I d like to ask What s become o Rastus King ? Did he go out west prospectin* Far on Californy s rim ? Did he settle with the Injuns, Or did the Injuns settle him ? What a great big-hearted feller Rastus was, and how he d sing ! Sometimes tears Ml start to rollin When I think o Rastus King. Where is he 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, 67 Rastus King Payin fer his school tuition, Earnin thus a livelihood. Allers boarded at the neighbors, Turned his hand at anything ; Faithful, honest ; well the farmers Simply swore by Rastus King. Find him down to meetin 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 You could hear im 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 year. Last I heerd he s doin splendid, Rich, fast horses, everything. Jest like him, a regular schemer ; Oh ! I knew him, Rastus King. 68 Rastus King Then the hackman I M 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 ? " w Well," said he, " nothin s the matter Stephen, only he s in jail." THAT VALENTINE /"ANCE, 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, you 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, But how I never can forget, But 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. 70 DE GOOD SHIP T SE bin watchin long fer de Good Ship, De Good Ship 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 moh nin , When nary a sail was in sight, An I se looked fer it long about noonday. N watched fer it way in de night. Till I cast my eye ovah de boun less Ole ocean, an what did I see ? Off der in de hush ob de distance De Good Ship a-comin 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 , My Good Ship had done got in. A CASUAL OBSERVATION TP\AR S nuffin hyar but vanity ^^^ An* riches an* insanity; De dollah seems to be de people s god. Dar J s a heap too many Scariots A-ridin roun in chariots, While de po man am a-carryin de hod. Dar s too much haste an hurryin , An* too much wea/th at buryin , An dis hyar t ing am gettin worse and 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 ; Ebbery 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* silently await de judgment day. 73 LIKE THE NEW FRIENDS BEST TH\O N 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 do n t care for their old time ways ; Their questions you 11 allow Are soulless as a parrot s gab: " Well, what you up to now? " That s one thing I ve agin cm, 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?" 73 Like the New Friends Best No!" "Eli Stubbsis dead. An* Tore he died he ast for you Seemed sorry you was gone, An* said at what he d let you have He hoped would help you on." Now that s why I do n 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 You got expelled from school, and lots Of other things, an then They member when you shivereed The town an broke the lights Out of the school nen run away An played "Hunt Cole" out nights. They member when you played around Your dear old mommy s knee ; It s them can tell the very date That you got on a spree. I do n t like to forget em, yet If put right to the test Of hankerin right now for em, I like the new friends best. 74 A NEGRO SONG OF HOME AIN T berry many people wat 11 listen to a niggah Un low dey s enny sense in wot he say, But I se gwine ter guv de sperience of mah feelin s, and I figgah Dat dey s quite a smart o people tinks mah way. Wen a man begins a-shoutin bout de good tings dat he s missin* Kickin kase dey ain t a fortune in his job, Let im go home to his kitchen, an set down a while an listen To de singin ob de kettle on de hob. I ve hayrd de strains ob " Home, Sweet Home" when Patti was a-singin An de aujience was a-spillin ob deir tears ; But I did n t mind the singah, fo a different tune kep ringin Wif hits ha nty kin ob music in mah ears. 75 A. Negro Song of Home An I reckernized de melerdy so powerful bewitchin Dat made mah heart like sixty fo ter t rob, An I mejiate felt a hank rin fo my cozy little kitchen An de singin ob de kettle on de hob. De rich man can inhabitate a palace ef he wishes, Wif brick-er-brack and pictuahs on de wall ; An kin lay on velvet sofers an eat ofr n golden dishes, But I would n t swap mah kitchen fo his all ; Fo hit would n t be like home ter me but ceptin I could listen, A-puffin at de backy in mah cob, While de good Lawd seemed a-speakin ob a home like kin* ob blessin Frough de singin ob de kettle on de hob. 76 S POSIN \T7HAT if the new San Francisco should sail To Chilian waters away, With the Boston and Yorktown afar in the east, Nd the Lancaster off in Bombay; Nd the big Philadelphia s posin she wuz A-loadin with tea in Japan, With the Concord and Bennington flyin so gay Their colors around Hindostan ; Nd s posin the Charleston wuz in Bering Sea, With the Newark in Pamlico Sound, Nd the Miantonomah s big bilers should bust, Nd the Baltimore run hard aground ; Then s posin we got in a fight right away With Chili or even Peru, Nd England should work the shell game on New York, Say what in the deuce would we do? 77 LITTLE RASMUS Great Good Speret come down from above An took ieetle 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 rny leetle Rasmus dat played roun de do* An danced at de sunbeams dat fell on de flo , Took my leetle Rasmus away. Dat s why I se down-hearted an kain t fin relief, An oP an bent over ; I se 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 know de Good Speret mus be mighty glad, But dis darky s heart am jes mounful an sad Since Rasmus has done gone away. 78 Little Rasmus An* mos 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 darky s heart am jes burdened wid woe, An* at night twixt de win* an de patterin rain, My po soul an body am restless wid pain Since Rasmus has done gone away. But I know de Good Speret comes down from de sky An hovahs aroun ebbery day, An hit pears what yo worship a leetle too much De Good Speret takes it away, Kase He took leetle Rasmus away Took po leetle Rasmus away. 79 NOBODY- KNOWS "^TOBODY knows when de col* winds am blowin , ^ Whar all de po little chillun 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 emptyin s 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 mus soon be an endin , Nobody sees, but de Lo d done see. em, An bime-by de Lo d 11 tell humanity ter free em. 80 SHE DOES NOT HEAR SH-SH-SH-SH-SHE does not hear the r-r-r-r-rotin sing, Nor f-f-f.f-fcel the b-b-b-b-balmy b-b-breath of Spring ; Sh-sh-sh-she does not hear the p-p-pelting rain B-b-b-beat ta-ta-tat-t-t-toos on the w-w-winder p-p-pane. Sh-sh-sh-she cuc-cuc-cannot see the Autumn s-s-sky, Nor hear the wild geese s-s-s-stringing b-b-by; 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 kuk-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 cuc-cuc-cuc-clock that t-t-tells the hours ; 83 She Does Not Hear And even now the f-f-fire-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 ; No t-t-t-tongue can m-m-m-mock, no words em barrass Her b-b-b-b-by g-g-gosh ! she s p-p-plaster paris ! DOWN THE MISSISSIPPI , de ole plantation landin , On de Mississippi sho , * Pears es if I seed ole massa 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 up dar to de cabin ; But de ole folks, whar are dey ? An de winin path a-leadin Roun de house ; sometimes, a spell, Seems es ef I h yard de win less H istin watah Pom de well. Down the Mississippi Cap n, kain yo stop de boat, sah ? 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 yo s ready, En I Mow I 11 fin* mah way Back to dat ole shattah d homestead Whar de sun shines froo to-day. Massa Lincoln s gunboats let it Jais dat way in sixty-three ; Cose dey did some monsus damage, But dey set us dahkies free. How I membah po ole missus Standin n yah de cabin do En she say : " Yo gwine off, Rasmus ? Ain yo gwine come back no mo ? M Den I sade : " Not zackly, missus ; Somepin s done ketched ontah me. Dar s a big stampede ob darkies From Kaintuck 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." 86 Down the Mississippi Massa so t o bowed his haid, sah, Sittin in Ms ole-ahm-chair ; Missus, standin* on de do step Caught de sunlight in her hair ; An* de breezes from de orchard Feared to rustle froo de trees, En I h yard old Judy weepin Tale yo I was mighty sad, sah, But I sort o walked away. Years en years ago it was, sah ; Now I se wanderin back to-day. Deed I se lookin back en gazin 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, Dis yere side de ole ho n bow ; Low yo need n t stop de steamah ; Jais slack up a leetle slow. * # # * # Dar s de same ole steps a-climbin F om de landin to de h ; ll. Down the Mississippi La n ob goodness ! Ef de bushes Ain t a-growin thickah still. In de Ian ob dc 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 al? THE MERMAID OWEET mermaid of the incomparable eyei, ^ 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 haunt* Comes forth to feed on anything he wants ; Where mollusks crawl and cuttlefish entwine, There on crustaceans be content to dine. What ecstacies 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 Each other s fins throb, or perhaps we d steal To some lone cavern. I suppose you know a Place where we could pluck the polyzoa, Or in your boudoir by your mirror there I d comb the seaweed from your auburn hair. The Mermaid But 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? Oh, no. By Jove ! There comes the white hippo campus, DE BLACKBIRD FETCHED DE SPRING XT7HEN de autumn leabes was twistin* 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 dahky s heart Was jes pahboiled wid woe. He was wid me in de furries In de summah fields ob co n, An* aroun* a-hookin cherries Deed he was, mos ebbery mo*n, An* he he p me dribe de horses, Cluckt an cluckt ter make *em go. Dat s why I low dis dahky s heart Was jes* pahboiled wid woe. De Blackbird Fetched De Spring But he notice dat de yellerin Was a-comin on de leabes, An* de win* was so t o whinin , too, Jes like a dog dat grebes, An* wid nuffin in de cherry tree, Exceptin wintah s bref, One day in fall he lowed he d go En jes skip out himself. Hi kain t persarsely blame im, Kase I d went ef I was him ; Low he knew de wintah wedder Would done freeze im to de limb, Kase he couldn t ha dly navigate, Er could n t cluck er sing, En so he said: "Good-bye, ole man, I se comin back in spring." Dis mohnin , honey, deed I heerd, When ebberyt ing was calm, A song dat tetched mah po ole heart Like oil of gladdest balm. An who should I see settin dar Upon de ole hay rack, But mah blackbird, shuah, mah blackbird, An e said, "I sejes got back." 92 De Blackbird Fetched De Spring 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 mah cabin do* He sang an flashed his wing, An I praised de Lo d of glory, Kase my blackbird fetched de spring. 93 APPEARANCES 1P\E man dat wahs de slickest tile *-* Doan draw de bigges check ; De riches lookin kin* ob sile Doan yieP de bigges peck. De hoss dat s highes 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 milkmaid scream, Am jes de bossie cow dat gives De riches kin ob cream. De mule dat hab de wicked eye Ain half so bad, now min Look out for dat ole sleepy mule Yo s walkm roun behin . 94 THE GIRL WITH THE JERSEY \7"OU 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 decollete ; 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. 95 IF MY WIFE TAUGHT SCHOOL TF 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 o my oar Would be heard by the natives around Singapore If my wife taught school, I would, would n t you ? Er would n t yuh ? Enny 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, would n t you ? Er would n t yuh ? Enny way, what would you do ? If my wife taught school you can bet I would fly Like a condor, I d roost pretty middlin high; If My Wife Taught School I *d wear a silk tile and own bosses, I vow, And do lots of things I ain t doin now. If my wife taught school, I would, would n t you ? Er would n t yuh ? Enny way, what would you do ? If my wife taught school like some women do, And I could n 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, would n t you ? Er would n t yuh ? Enny way, what would you do? THE OLD SPINNING WHEEL in\O 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, 98 The Old Spinning Wheel 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." 99 THE OWL AND THE CROW >T<HERE was an old owl, With eyes big and bright, Who sung in a treetop 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 treetop so high, 100 The Owl and the Crow 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 do n t steal young chickens And sit up all night, With dew on my feathers ; When I break the laws In looking through cornfields It s not without caws " 101 DE CLOUDS AM GWINE TER PASS wedder s mighty waum, An I gase it s gwine ter staum, 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, Whar 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 sky ; An when yo hyar de soun Like a shubbin tables roun Yo can see de pigs a-runnin to de sty. 102 De Clouds Am Gwine Ter Pass But de clouds am gwine ter pass, An de sun shine out at las , While de pickaninnies play aroun de do ; An froo de windah blinds, Hid by mornin glory vines, Hit s er gwine to flicker down upon de flo . Gord moves in many a way, So de ole Bible say, Fo He counts de drops and all de grains obsan ; An when de darkness falls Pon dese hyar cabin walls Hit am jes de break ob day in uddah lands. Den hurry, chillun, hustle while you may, Kase yo know dar s gwine ter come a rainy day. But de gloomerin will pass, An de sun shine out at las , An de darkies clouds ob sorrer pass away. 103 A SUMMER S AFTERNOON 5>T*WAS the close of a summer s day, The sound of the flail had died away, The sun was shedding a lingering gleam, And the teakettle sung with its load of steam* The old clock ticked that hung on the wall And struck J 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; 104 A Summer s Afternoon 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. 107 I FED THE FISHES ONE day a big excursion sailed afar out in the lake, All bent upon an outing with their sandwiches and cake. They sought the upper deck until the wind began to blow, When all engaged in different things as every one must know ; While I fed the fishes, I fed the fishes, I fed the fishes clear to Old St. Joe. Good Captain Stines went up on deck to cast his weather eye ; A woman sadly, badly prayed, " Oh, Father, let me die!" The cabin-boys ran back and forth in staterooms all around, While voices shrieked : " Oh, mercy oop ! Oh oop ! wish I were drowned." 108 I Fed the Fishes 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 wave* we sped, While Purser Hancock ran abaft to hold some woman i head; One fellow sat him down and sang: "Good-bye, sweetheart, good-bye ;" 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 "kersock;" 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. 109 I Fed the Fishes Some tried to eat their sandwiches, some staggered, reeled and laughed, While others went below to smile, and there the brown ale quaffed. The steward, Richard Waters, rushed about with whisky slings ; Most every one seemed occupied, and all did different things, But I fed the fishes, I fed the fishes, I fed the fishes clear to Old St. Joe. no OLD BOSSIE COW * ole bossic cow s down in de 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-iowin . So out by de cabin do I stan on de sweep, An listen in de win an dampnin weddah, An t pears dat I hear ole bossie cow agin, An I low dat she say, "Come down in de meddah." Den down froo de marsh land trampin along, Down froo de gloom an de night rains a-fallin , Pickin 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 . 211 THAT CAT TPHE cat that comes 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 does n 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 uneasy about Beyond the least shadow of any doubt That cat gits out. 112 A FROG S THANKSGIVING T 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 batrachian 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, maybe I am ; I m a frog just the same. "3 LOVEY-LOVES , love ! let us Jove with a love that loves, Loving on with a love forever ; For a love that loves not the love it should love I wot such a love will sever. Bjat, 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. Oh, chide not the love when its lovey-love loves With lovable, loving caresses ; For one feels that the lovingest love love canjovje, Loves on in love s own lovelinesses. And love, when it does We, in secret should love Tis there where love most is admired ; But the two lovey-loves that do n t care where they love Make the public most mightily tired. 114 HANK SPINK TTANKSPINK, hesaid erBob did, his brother- At he hit a man once for somepin or other, An after he hit im I got this from Bob He simply went right out an give up his job ; Not Hank er Bob, But the feller at got hit Give up his job. See? He said at the wind, er the force of his blow, Er somepin like that, somehow I do n t know Just now what it was I got it from Bob, At he got a good swat ; not Hank er Bob, By a long shot, But the feller at got hit Got a good swat. See ? He said he d be blamed, at he did n t know How he came to strike such an all-fired blow, "5 Hank Spink Cept he guarded his right an* threw the hull heft Of his weight an his science, an hit with his left ; That lost im his job ; not Hank er Bob, But the feller at got hit, Lost him his job. See? THE NILE 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 doum 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. The Nile By 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. 1x8 LIKE DE OLE MULE BES SOME folks is so t o pa shal to de cattle roun* de fa m, Ter make a pet ob animals dey find hit so t of 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 Mow dey hab de sense Ter pear ter know dere massa 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 . SoiTic pet de mockin* bird en robin redbress* an* de linnit ; Some hke de gobbler kase he s struttin roun* mos* ebery minute. 119 Like De Ole Mule Bes 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 like de 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, er Eas er Wes I so t o like de ole mule bes . Dars sompin meekly bout im, hits de fac he is n 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 120 Like De Ole Mule Bes 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 dar s 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 worshiped . 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 I se mo den lonesome heah, wid nobody ter talk, Er hide behin de lilac trees adown de garden walk, Dat w cn 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 . 121 DE RIBBER OB LIFE T DREAMT dat I saw de ribber ob life A 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. De angels kep wadin to an fro ; Whar did dey come from ? Whar did dey go ? None ob em sinnahs like me, I kno , 122 De Ribber Ob Life 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, 1 Whar Jesus de light first see. De sofes ob music f om 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. An 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. I se gwine to ford dat ribber ob life An* see de eternal day. I se gwine to hear dem heavenly bands, An feel de tech ob ole-time hands Dat long hab passed away. Dar s crowns ob glory for all, I m told, 123 De Ribber Ob Life An* lubly harps wid strings ob gold. An I know ef dar s peace beyond dat sea, Wid res* fo de weary, dar *s res fo me-- Beyond dat ribber, dat ribber ob life, Dat flows to de Jaspah Sea. 124 THE CAT O NINE TAILS I A HE old cat o nine tails is comin 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. Why, what do you suppose Will happen if you re impident an set aroun an* grin ? Well, I 11 have to call the cat o nine tails in Have to call him in ; yes, have to call him in ; in. tails cat o nine old I 11 have to call the old cat o nine tails in. old cat o nine tails in. "5 The Cat O Nine Tails Are you sassy to yer father, are you fibbin to yer mother ? Are you quarrelin* with yer sister an* a-pinchin of yer brother, Do you "ring around the rosey " till you have a dizzy feelin , And you think yer goin roun an roun an walkin on the ceilin* ? Well, you better stop yer screechin an a-makin such a din, Er I 11 have to call the old cat o nine tails in Have to call him in ; yes, have to call him in ; in. tails cat o nine old I 11 have to call the old cat o nine tails in. old cat o nine tails in. Do you ailers mind your manners when company is come ? Er do you git upstairs nd yell, nd stomp around nd drum ? 126 The Cat O Nine Tails Do you show off at the table, too, nd try to act up smart, Nd p int yer fingers at the things nd say : " Gimme a tart?" If some one doesn t dress you down I think it is a sin ; So I 11 have to call the old cat o nine tails in Have to call im in ; yes, have to call im in ; in. tails cat o nine old I 11 have to call the old cat o nine tails in. old cat o nine tails in. 127 THE HAIR-TONIC BOTTLE TTOW dear to my heart is the old village drug- ** store, When tired and thirsty it comes 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 cuspidor by it, That little back room. Oh ! you ve been there yourself, And ofttimes 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. 128 The Hair-Tonic Bottle 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. 129 DE CIRCUS TURKEY H E 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 does n t seem to pear Ter hab a bit ob fear, Kase I se wasted all mah strength n bref upon im. It may be he s in fun, But I 11 scah im wid dis gun, I se boun* ter git im down some way, dog on im. I se fro d mos all de sticks In de yard, T n all de bricks; Ef yo was me whut under d sun ud yo do ? He does n t seem ter change, N pears ter act so strange, I d clar he mus be pestah d wid a hoodoo. 130 De Circus Turkey I tale yo hit s er fac* I nearly broke mah back Er histin shoes n brickbats 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 11 make im think He kaint gib me de wink An sait upon dat limb en be secuah. Biff! ! Bang!! I 11 make im si:g; Mah goodness, watch im swing. W y 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, quick, sah ! I se 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 I se tempted mos ter use a stick o wood. De Circus Turkey Yo kaint go de meetin , An* w en it comes ter eatin Yo mudder sais yo kaint come to de table. I bet yo 11 sing er tune, Kase all dis aftahnoon We s cided dat we 11 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 six o clock yo go ter baid. 132 SOFIE JAKOBOWSKI T ITTLE Sofie Jakobovvski, -^-^ Handsome as a forest flower, Dwelt alone with Gokstad Pfouski Ivan Ruric Romanowski, 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, 133 Sofie Jakobowski 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 halfway 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 ; Lips, 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, Sofie Jakobowski 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-off 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 Prebojenski ; Kutusoff and Fedorovitch, Little No Account von Storitch, Seizendorf, and Jake Zebatzki, Romanoff and Ruffbnratzsky, This is but the half of them 135 Sofie Jakobowski Herr von Freitag Stobelpem, And a Jew that sent her Rhine wine, Moses Aaron Eiffel Einstein ; He from Hong Kong, Sam Wing Lee, Drinkee Alice Samee Tea ; Isawwiskey and Tschenimsky, 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. Do n 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 tower. She the fairest little maiden 136 Sofie Jakobowski Dwelling on this side of Aidin ; Would n 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. Sofie Jakobowski 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 chuck full, elated, Little John sat down and waited Waited for the somber curtain Of the night to make him certain That he might not be discovered Or his hellish plans uncovered, Waited till a cloudy pall 138 Sofie Jakobowski Hung its mantle 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 to-night, sweet love. Adieu ! " Signing with a heart aflame, Sofie Jakobowski s name. One dark night when all was still On frosty turret, dome and hill, Forty suitors came in season, Knocked, and I do n t know the reason Walked right in the door ; it swung 139 Sofie Jakobowski 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 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 that 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. 140 Sofie Jakobowski Do n 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 Romanovvski. " 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 141 Sofie Jakobowski His vow : "You say, *He comes to me ; You cry : He comes ! He coriies ! To thee I swear by yonder moonlit snow He comes ! 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 PCazan ; Vadlimir and Max Pulaski, Peter Ulric, and Hydraski ; Isaac Ozam of Torique, 142 Sofie Jakobowski 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 Alice Samee Tea- He from Hong Kong Sam Wing Lee, Isawwiskey and Tschenimsky, Waronetzski and Chewbimsky, And two nase a yentlemen, Yohn and Ole Petersen. SUNRISE E 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 my soul with glee, Is when that hunk of daylight Climbs up out of the sea. THE WOODTICKS 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 quarrelin an a-cryin . There s things out in the forest, mind, An if you do n t take care, The woodticks the woodticks Will be crawlin thro yer hair. An they say as boys is naughty, An their hearts is full o sin, They 11 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, The Woodticks Another one 11 grow. An mebbe you won t feel em, too, Er ever know they re there, But by and by they 11 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 11 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 wood ticks the woodticks A-crawlin thro yer hair. 146 DIDN T WE, JIM? XT ES, 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 Did n t we, Jim ? An pa ud stay late, an we uster call, Cause we thought we heard im downstairs 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 Did n 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 ; But the last words she said was never to drink Did n t she, Jim ? But our other ma, what our pa brought home there, She whipped little Jim cause he stood on a chair Did n t We, Jim ? An* kissed our ma s picture that hung on the wall, An struck me fer not doin nothin at all Did n t she, Jim? She said at we never had no bringin up, An stayed round the house an eat everything up, An said at we could n 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, did n t we, Jim ? But our pa well, we did n 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 to-day- Did n t we, ain t it, Jim ? Mister, do n 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 Did n t she, Jim ? 148 THE POST-DRIVER TT^HE lingering loon flies over the marsh t And the night bird nestles in dew, The river is cold and the winds are harsh, But what is it that goes cuhchoo ? 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 ? 149 LEF DE OLE HOSS OUT * >"pWEEN de gusts ob de win ^ Comes a winner an a soun* Like de trampin ob hoofs on de col , col groun . I se spicious ob a staum, 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. 150 Lef De Ole Hoss Out Mah goodness, what er night ! Wondah what s dat soun ? Dat s de ole hoss, jes comin on de boun*. I se ashame ob myse f ! Well, what was I bout, Ter go tcr bed ter res an leebe de ole hoss out ? EC-A-LEC-TIC FITS T 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 would n 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 must n t scare me, too, 152 Ec-a-lec-tic Fits An* romp up quick against me Like they s playin peek-a-boo, Cause ma she 11 say right out to em: "See here, now, children, quit ! I guess you 11 have to run right home Fore Wads worth has a fit." Sometime I 11 be strong nd well An big like Uncle Dan, An he 11 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 do n t I m li ble to git dead. I would n t care if I should die Nd go up there, would you, S3 Ec-a-lec-tic Fits 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. <5* KEEP HIM A BABY 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, Do n 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. Keep him a baby still taking his nap, Do n t you chastise him for any mishap ; Keep Him a Baby When he falls off a sofa or chair, Do n 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 11 soon be a boy, Then he 11 forsake every plaything and toy; Keep him a baby he 11 soon be a man, Keep him a baby as long as you can. 156 ANGELINY COME right hyar, yo Angeliny ; Chile, yo jes gib me de blues, What yo doin ? tryin to try me Warin out dem bran new shoes ? Vase 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 Pom dar, Out Pom dar hin dat dar bed ; Now, go comb yo har. Angeliny ! Angeliny ! Doan yo hyar me callin yo ? Need n t tink dat yo slip by me, Min , gal, I se daid on tah yo . 157 Angeliny Come right squar in t om dar, Yo kaint play wid dem low white trash, Now, my gal, see hyar. Whar s yo music edgecashun ? Git to dat piannah dar Play dat lubly strabaganzah Dat yo calls de Maiden s Pra r. Lan a-libin , chile, do yo Want de folks in dis hyar neighbo hood Tink yo s Irish too ? 158 DE EYARFQUAKE 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 saxafhone Am shuahly gwine to blow. Cose yo s laffin now, Bekase 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 Roun de bottom ob de mill. Some day dar s gwine ter open De bigges kin ob crack, 159 The Eyarfquake An dis hyar coon s a-hopin Dat de Lord won t hoi yo back, Speshly Jaspah Jones McClellan, Yo s de one I se bin a-tellin But 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 11 ope de furnace do An de draf 11 suck yo in. Doan be loafin now An shootin craps aroun ; 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 11 nevah tech de groun . 160 PRESQUE ISLE T TOW well I remember the day that I spent On that far away island where all is content ; When sweet from the woodland, midst bramble and brake, The birds caroled on it seemed just for our sake, Oh, where on this orb is a spot that we feel The rapture of loving as on the Presque Isle ? I laved in her looks and I bathed in her smiles, Nor thought of the nook where the serpent beguiles ; I watched the calm glow of her passionate cheek, As in maidenhood only those blushes can- speak. How I ardently knelt at her feet to reveal The love that was born far away on Presque Isle. When the stars had come out in the clear northern skies They but beamed on my soul, ah ! less bright than her eyes, And I turned in despair from the orbs up above To gaze in the eyes of an angel of Jove. 161 Presque Isle 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 to-day, But my lips they are mute I have nothing to say, Except that my soul I claim as my own, Tho* my soft auburn hair is all scatter d and strown, And after each cyclone in silence I kneel And pray for an earthquake to sink the Presque Isle, 162 BEULAH LAND de ribber in Beulah Lan De lubly angels in white robes stan ; Dey beckon me dar, I kin hyar de ban , Ober de ribber in Beulah Lan . Ober de ribber what sights I see ! Somebody Stan s dar a-waitin fo me ; Stan s on de sho ob dejaspah Sea, A-callin ; he says dar s 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 ; 163 Beulah Land Ober de ribber you all mus* know Dat de Good Shepherd will open de do*. Den we Ml shout glory an* praise im an* sing Long up de golden streets, how it will ring; Close to de Massa fo evah we Ml stan , Ober de ribber in Beulah Lan . 164 THE BLACKBIRD AND THE THRUSH 44 TT 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 clothesline, "For I won t budge, but I 11 act as judge, And the winner I 11 ask to dine." In a minor key the thrush sang he, Way up 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 fence, And he crowed and he crowed ; then he said : "I 11 be Wowed If that is n t simply immense." The Blackbird and the Thrush Then the blackbird, well, he listened a spell And began in garrulous run, But he was n t admired, for a farmer tired Well, he up and fired a gun. Then the black crow said, as he 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." KJ6 DE SPRING-HOUSE 1T\OWN to de spring-house am whar I long to -*~^ vvandah De ole do a-creakin as hit swings to en fro, Down to de spring-house standin ovah yondah, Standin ovah yondah in de long time ago. Down by de spring-house de lilacs am a-bloomm ; Hollyhocks a-noddin an honeysuckles 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 again I m walkin ; Ycllah cream pon de shef, kain t let it be. Down in de spring-house no use in talkin Col greens an hog-jole s good enuff fo me. Down to de spring-house missus comes a-callin , OF hound s a-bahkin an massa gins tcr shout. Down in de spring-house what a caterwaulin Jais sort a-waitin fo de niggah to come out. 167 De Spring-House Down by de spring-house blackbirds eat de cherry, Wasp suck de honeysuckle, clovah feed de bee. Down in de spring-house niggah nevah worry Down in de spring-house am good enuff fo me. 168 UNDER OBLIGATIONS A NEGRO PARSON S CHRISTMAS SERMON. T NOTICE dat de weddah s rathah chilsome, mo* or less, An I notice dat de back-log so t o crackles, Lor* bress ? Ole Crimp is on dc tuhnpike an* de fross is on de faince An* Sam Claus 11 soon be hyah, so chillun, hab saince. I seed im on Ole Massa s ruff; twar jais de oddah night, Wid a span ob balky reindyahs, bofe um dapple gray an white. Dey war hitched to a monsus lookin alligatah sleigh, An* filled wid gifts fo de chillun, piled ebery which un way. Hab any ob yo* chillun bin a-sinnin ? Or a-sassin yo suppearyahs, or a-grinnin ? Yo bettah read yo Bible bout ole Moses an delaw c ^ Foh yo s undah obligashuns to Ole Santa Claus. 171 Under Obligations 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 yo tended up to Sunday-school, an listen* d to yo teachah ? Does yo always drap a nickel to try an spote yo preach ah ? Am yo wilful to yo faddah or yo muddah ? Does yuh pestervate yo sistah or yo bruddah ? Yo bettah change yo tacticks cause, well, jess be cause Yo s undah obligashuns now to Ole Santa Claus. Kin yo ansuah all dese questions dat yo pastah has perferd ? 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 roun he 11 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, do n t yo hesitate or pause, Kase yo s undah obligashuns to Ole Santa Claus. 172 CLEOPATRA AND CHARMIAN T M dying, yes, Charmian, dying, I m dying to stroll out awhile. This eve we 11 go down to the Cydnus And scare up some old crocodile. I swear by the Priests of Serapis This Egypt just gives me the blues, It seems that my only companions Are crocodiles, storks, and emus. I m so melancholy and stupid, Sweet maid should I drop in a doze, 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 Cleopatra and Charmian Why under the sun do n t they feed him That slave with the pigeon-toed feet ? To-day you must polish those idols, The buhl-headed idols and more, Just see that those lubberly eunuchs Do n t spit on my porphry floor. You re getting infernally lazy * And looking so peeked and white. See here, miss ! Does that jay from Memphis Think you can sit up every night ? I vow, I believe you re weak-minded, Your brain seems to be in a whirl, Next week I 11 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 gardens And bask neath those lovely dhoum palms. Bring also my pearl brooch and necklace, Dear, lazy, old Ethiope girl ! Some wine of Ramesian vintage I 11 mix up a nectar of pearl. 176 Cleopatra and Charmian We 11 drink to Osiris and Isis The great Sphinx of Theban renown, Old Cheops, the father of pyramids, The Ptolemies, then to the crown. By Pthah ! 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 nearing the castle ? Just look, Charmian 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. 177 BUT THEN JOHN OSWALD MuGUFFIN he wanted to die Nd bring his career to an end ; Of course, well he did n t say nothin to me But that s what he told every friend. So one afternoon he went down to the pier, Nd folks saw him actin most terribly queer ; He prayed nd he sung, put his hand up to cough An* every one thought he was a-goin to jump off But he did n t. He may jump tomorrer Mornin at ten Said he was goin to Try it again But 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 ; Nd the very next time at he started to shave, 178 But Then Determined to die, he wus goin t be brave ; So he stood up nd flourished the knife in despair Nd every one thought at he d kill himself there But he did n t. He says at tomorrer Mornin at ten He has a notion to Try it again But then. He went and bought arsenic, bought paris green, Nd 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 he was n t. He riz up nd said : Could n t say when He d fully decide to Try it again- But then. 179 PINKEY T RECKON wintah s goin It s rainin sted of snowin 1 . I tale yo* dar s no knowin Jes* whar dis chile 11 go. Might go to Souf Kyarlina, An summah dar wid Dinah ; I guess I d cut a shine Among de coons I know. Den dar s 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 ob my crinkey Frock I wore so shrinky When I use to dance de fling. 180 Pinkey We gals out in de moonshine Would dance de good oP coonjine, An* dreckly den we d soon fin Dat missus heah de noise. Den mighty quick she d hurry Down dar all in a flurry, An* fin dis huckleberry A-dancin fV de boys. An den de way she d take me, An land ob goodness, shake me ! Ol missus raised an brake me. No wondah I se so good. Ol missus used to tell me Dat like de cows she d bell me, Or else she d done go sell me To Yankees, I se so rude. I membah Rasmus Biddle, As black as auntie s griddle; He used to play de fiddle, An feet ! umh ! a holy show. An dar was Luke an Jaspah, Lucindy, Jude an Caspah, 187 Pinkey Dat ignominyus, aspah- Ratin , on ry lookin moke. Dat ol cush-footed, cramp-back, Dat essence ob ol lampblack, Dat inside yih ! yih ! ob a smokestack, Us gals we called im smoke. An dat new coon f om Cuba, Dat use to play de tuba, He used to pat de juba, While 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, But when yo pull de triggah Yo pestah dese heah shoes. An when de fiddle s scrapin , Dar s too much music scapin , I se got to git to shapin Myself or git de blues. 182 Pinkey Yo wondah dat I se weary Fro all dese days so dreary, Dar ain t one ring dat s cheery Bout Shcawgo life fo me. Dat s de raison dat I se goin , Jes as soon zit quits a-snowin , An* de col win* stops a-blowin , Back to ole Kyarlina State. Dar de ivy am a-creepin ; Whar my po ole muddah s sleepin ; Missus scuse me kase I se weepin . Seems as if I could n t wait. THE BUNG TOWN CANAL you remember, Tom, Billy, and Sal, he old swimmin days in the Bung Town 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 11 forget it, an tween you 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. 184 The Bung Town Canal Me an John Price caught the gol blamedest thing, With six legs an four fins n a yaller-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 BungTown 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 snaik Way down in his stummick an he better take One or two whiskeys fore eatin each meal, Then in a week er two mebbe 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 argied the pint at he never d a died If they d a jest let em be on the inside. 185 The Bung Town Canal 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, N dive off once agin in the Bung Town Canal. 1 86 DE MASSA Massa to dc shepa d say : Go call de sheep dat 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 ! Cu-dey ! Cu-dey ! De shepa d said de night was col , But all de sheep was in de fbl . " 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-dey ! Cu-dey ! Cu-dey ! Cu-dey !" De massa then went fro* de gloom, Ob medder fields. De autumn moon Was dodgin 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-dcy ! Cu-dey ! Cu-dey !" 187 De Massa 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-dey ! Cu-dey ! Cu-dey !" But furder on in gloom an damp, Upon de border ob de swamp ; So chill d by dew and 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 ! Cu-dey ! Cu-dey ! Cu-dey Cu-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 !" r 88 COONIE IN DE HOLLER /^OONIE in de holler hidin hin de logs, ^^ Little picaninies ketchin pollywogs, Banjo am a ping ping pingin out a tune, Ebery t ing am lubly as a day in June. Ping, 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, Jusy in de do way, rakin up de yard, Jaspah am a-pickin on de ole banjo An he am a-singin " I se gwine home to Clo." Coonie in de holler done gone up a tree, An he am a-hidin whar no one can see. But he know his bizness nuff not to come down, Kase he know him likely meet dat frocious houn , Coonie in de holler, hark, I hyar a gun, Git a-goin Rasmus, Jube git up an run, 189 Coonie In De Holler All de foolish niggahs runnin* till dey pant, Bet my bottom dollah Rube has treed an ant. Pee, wee, wee, * pee wees in de cedars, Bluebirds come, robins an* de leaders, Cudder-rudder-rung, bullfrog just now sung, Hyar dat distant thundah ; guess dat spring am sprung. 190 AFTER WEIDENFELLER GOES TT s goin to be blamed lonesome after Weiden- feller goes ; Catastrofies are follerin right and no one knows What s goin to happen next, for banks are bustin every day An now we hear the woeful news that Weid s agoin away. Weid agoin ! think o* that ! not goin up above, Nor out upon Midway Plaisance, that spot the boys all love, Or goin to Californy or out to Idaho, But yet they say he s goin away, that s why we re filled with woe. O course he ain t goin to die or anything like that, He s simply got his sal ry raised and kind o "standin pat " With I believe it s with the boss; I m bamed if I can tell ; But I know Weid s goin away know that mighty well. After Weidenfeller Goes I know the Club 11 miss im lots; so all the fellers here Are gathered round the festal board to-night to give im cheer. An* send im off in proper shape, which only goes to show We re mighty glad he s prosperin but sad to see im go. I ve stood upon the wild sea banks, afar in Michigan, Just left 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 do n t that show I m mournin , too, cause Weid has got to go ? God bless im, and let fortune smile and cheer Mm 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 11 sit around an say it s jest cause Weidenfel ler s gone. 192 ZACCHEUS ACCHEUS clim up de sycamo tree, A-waitin fo de good Lo d ter come, Den e looked up de road jes fur as he could see, A-waitin fo de good Lo d ter come. Oh, Zaccheus knew he could done see de bes , Ef e clim up de tree he could ovahlook de press, An haps e could sleep an 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, 193 Zaccheus 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, "I se 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 I se lookin fo ter see. Dis day I abide at de house wid thee," Waitin fo de good 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 dinnah, 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 waitin fo de Lo d ter come. 194 Zaccheus En Zach knew de Lo d knew he had stuff Enhewondah def de Lo d was dun makin im a bluff. But de Lo d went home wid Zach shuah enuff, 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 dinnah A-waitin fo de good Lo d ter come. Ole Zaccheus he was a shuah nuff sinnah, Waitin fo de good Lo d ter 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 mus gib to de po En neber let a beggah man pass his do*. Den Zach he said : I will Lo d, sho ," While a-waitin fo de good Lo d ter come. Waitin fo de good Lord ter come elong come. A-waitin fo de good Lo d ter come. So gib me de po Dat pass by yo* do , While a-waitin fo de good Lo d ter come. 195 A RETROSPECTION T SE a sittin* neaf de ole magnolia tree A So t o thinkin ob de times dat used to be, In de huckleberry patches When we heah d the steamah Natchez, An* de white folks all u d hustle down to see. Dar was Missy Elenor aV Julie Ann, An* Haidee Lee, who lived wid Uncle Dan. But she went and run d away, An de folks set up an* say Dat she loped off wid a wicked no then man. Po Cindy she is daid, and Aunty Mary Doan do nuffin now but sate aroun en worry; En ebery night she say She specks to go next day, But her disease ain one dat pears to hurry. De doctors seems es ef dey had n t made out What t is das makes ole aunty look so played out^ But de time she will consume Turnin Heaven into gloom Will make de Lo d repent when sh s done laid out. 196 A Retrospection Missie Elenor she married Col. Paxton, An* de scandal bout the colonel do n 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 Julie Ann dat talk like she was hoarse, Dat huzzy she s done gone an got divorce. Dey lived in Chicamauga Till she moved up to Chicagah, Kase tings is mighty cheap up dar ob course, Yo membah Haidee Lee ? I undahstan Dat she s trablin roun de country wid a band, An heah she sort o prances Wid a skirt an thinks she dances, Did you evah, evah, goodness land ! Wid de vantages dey used to hab en see How dem girls was all turned out. Now can it be Dat cussidness is sown, Or is it in de bone ? Well, hit mus be in de family, seems to me. 197 ST. PATRICK S DAY M; AVOURNEEN, swate Isle, L 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. CHORUS. So lads, whin I call ye s, Come sing your " Come all Ye s," Ah ! here s to ould Ireland, byes, ivery toime : Och, coleens, beaisy, Your dhrivin* me crazy, What day of our counthry is one half so foine ? St. Patrick s the day, 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. 198 St. Patrick s Day I m sorry I left ye s To cross the deep wather, For the game that I ve played wid misfortune s a draw ; But do n t ye be ailin , I 11 soon be a-sailin* Away to the Isle of swate " Erin go Bragh." Then lend me the harp And I ll wake "Tipperary," Sing "By Killarney " wid " Noreen Maureen" ; The shamrock I m pressin , An while I m confessin I mpraisin St. Patrick un "wearin the green." 199 INJUN SUMMAH TP\E Injun summah s comin , ^^De bees is all froo hummin , De watah-mellon thumbin Has passed long time ago. De ole clock in de kitchen Is tickin mos bewitchin , While Gabe is out unhitchin Just kase it looks like snow. De lambs is runnin over De aftahmath ob clovah, An yondah comes de drovah ; I spec he got a yahn About de ole bell-weddah Dat s wand rin roun de meddah An wants ter git togeddah Wid de sheep up roun de bahn Some days de sun is shinin , Some days de win is whinin , 200 Injun Summah An den I se after fin in Big pippins on de groan ; De birds hab all stopped singin , Wil geese is soufward wingin , Jes look an* see em stringin Whar warmah weddah s foun De yaller cat is nappin En layin roun an gappin ; Bimeby he will be slappin Some tom-cat on de wall. Dar s a mellah, yellah glory Kase de yeah is ol an ho ry, An a melancholy story So t o hangin roun us all. 301 CAUSE IT S GITTIN SPRING T HE medder 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 rin cause the wind is in the west, And the robin s round a-hookin straws to build his- self a nes ; 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 therheumatiz an stiff as he can be ; Why it do n t git settled weather s moah n he can see ? But when it clears off splendid, then he s feared the crops is lost, An he reckons jest a little wind ud keep away the frost. The kitchen door is open ; I can hear Elmiry sing. What s the reason ? Oh, the reason s cause it s gittin spring. 203 Cause It s Gittin Spring The air is kind o soft nin* and you 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 bull frog 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. 20S DECORATE DE CABIN T SE done gwine ter decorate mah cabin, Wid all de brick-er-brack I se been a-habbin , Den I se boun ter hunt er wife, Deed I is, yo bet yo life. Dar s nuffin like a woman roun er blabbin . I se gwine ter hang a coon skin on de do , En hab some Turkey rugs roun on de flo ; An I nevah yet hab seen De ole cabin look ser clean, Ef yo peep in dar some time yo 11 fin it so. I los mah wife las summah, Jane Safras, Kase she done got up n blew out de gas, An eber since her leabin I se been a sort o greebin, But I hope de one I se ketchin now 11 las . We s gwine ter start right in to decoratin , An yo 11 be surprised at what I m statin , 204 Decorate De Cabin She s six feet high en taperin , En out ob sight in paperin , I se mighty glad I se been so long a-waitin . We s gwine ter range de pictures on de wall Yo talk about a fine reception hall Yo ought to see de flowahs, En de chromios in ours, Wy, de white man s house ain* in de thing at all. 205 THE ULTIMATUM 4 4 X7"OU can decorate your office " With a thousand gilded signs, And have upholstered furniture In quaint antique designs ; Have the latest patent telephone Where you can yell Hello ! But," said she, " I just made up my mind That typewriter must go. "You can stay down at the office, As you have done, after hours; And, if you are partial to bouquets, I 11 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 bookkeepers lay off" And see a game of ball ; 206 The Ultimatum The office-boy can leave at noon Or not show up at all. There what is this upon your coat ? It is n t mine I know. I think I know a thing or two That typewriter shall go." 207 DREAMY DAYS H ! 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 had n t ought to be. Oh ! the days when one suspender Held our breeches. Oh ! 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 J d sing with doleful glee. Oh ! how often mother made it Interesting. 208 WHEN THE STAGE GITS IN A? LL git a letter, nd Uncle Zed a book, Nd Aunty Jane expects er magazine; Nd school 11 all be out, Nd the children run nd shout, While a-playin "one-old-cat" out on the green. An the men at s in the grocery store LI come outside nd stand Nd talk, nd look around nd grin ; Per the folks down at the post-office A-standin all around Are happy when the stage gits in. Ma has done the bakin , nd made some patty cakes, Nd Lizzie has done the sweepin all alone ; An she s dustin up the furniture Nd settin things about, Cause tomorry we re expectin Aunt Se phrone. Nan has had er hair did up In papers all night long, 209 When The Stage Gits In Nd to-day 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. Nd 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 Nd all our relatives 111 be here when the stage gits in. 310 THE CULTURED GIRL AGAIN OHE was so esthetic and culchud, ^ Just doted on Wagner and Gluck ; 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 did n t know 311 The Cultured Girl Again T was 10 when I bade her good evening, I thought it in season to go. I passed her house yesterday evening, I do n 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 : f Mother," It was then that I felt quite abashed, For she yelled, "How shall I fix the taters, Fried, lionized, baked, biled, or mashed ?" tit DE CUSHVILLE HOP T SE gwine down to de Cushville hop An dar am no niggahs gwine ter make me stop ; Missus gwine to deck me all up in white, So watch de step dat I se gettin in ter night. Um-hm, my honey, tain no use ; Um-hm, my honey, turn me loose, Um-hm, my honey, watch me shine When mah foot am a-shakin in de ole coonjinc. No black niggahs come foolin roun me, I se jes to look at, anyone can see ; I se jes a orniment, an* I mus Tess No niggah put is ahm roun mah snow-white dress Um-hm, niggah, keep away, understand ? Um-hm, niggah, look out fb yo* hand j I se jes ter gaze at I must Tess, So do n 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; 213 De Cushville Hop Do n 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 : I e jes caught mah motion fo* de Cushville hop. 214 GORD ONLY KNOWS T SAW an old beggar dis mawnin , Lucindy, De weathaw was col an* bleak an windy, An de fros* took hold Ob de end ob his nose. Whar vvus he goin ? Gord only knows, chile, Gord only knows. All he had on was an ole woolen jacket. An pants dat had done seed a mighty ha d racket, His shoes war all out, Kase I saw his toes. Whar wus he goin ? Gord only knows, chile, Gord only knows. He said his gran chillun had turned him away, Wid nuffin to eat on las Thanksgibin Day. Wid no ovahcoat, He looked about froze. Whar was he goin ? Gord only knows, chile, Gord only knows. 215 Gord Only Knows He lifted his ban s, day was bony an blue, An axed me was dis hyar de main avenue, Den walked ovah dar To dose ten ment rows. Had he friends in dar ? Gord only knows, chile, Gord only knows. I doan bleb in treatin a gran fader so, Kase some day it s comin right squar back yer know. An when we grow ole An come to de snows, Den who 11 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 only knows. 216 JES TAKE MY ADVICE JES a little sunshine, jes a little rain, Jes a little happiness, jes a little pain. Jes a little verselet sounds mighty nice Bout some oddah business; jes take my advice. Jes a little chicken-coop standin neah de fence; Jes a little dahkey, too, widout a bit 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 roun 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 ting 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 sech little tings as dat got dis coon in jail. 217 PATRIOTISM AND A PENSION /~\LE Fo thobjuly ^^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 wah. I was chief ob a division Dat furnished de pervision, An 1 done looked wid pride on mah troops ; I haid em so well drilled Dat none ob dem got killed Ouah bizness was inspectin chicken coops. I was shot froo de lip, An wounded in de hip, En fractuah d mo er less about de haid; At de trouble roun Fo t Pickens I was skirmagin fo chickens, When mah foot slipt an I fell off de shaid. 218 Patriotism and a Pension Gen l Sherman gib us right To forage mos de night, So dat s why I se 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 ob pension, An I make mah affidavit fo de judge Dat 1 was in comman When a shell bust in mah hand, An fo fohty-seben days I could n t budge. I 11 stop, en hoi mah peace, Ef I get a good increase ; I want mah pension bill increased to five ; Foh mah lip, en hip, an hand, En mah haid, yo unde stan , An one jes fo comin out alive. 319 THE OLD MUSICIAN S FATE TJE played so many instruments A thousand won t express The number that he handled why Twas mor n that, I guess; An* when he got to playin hard We couldn t make im stop; It seemed he did n 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, La Paloma. He played an upright pianner forte, A concert grand, or square, And he imitated Paddy Roofski, all accept the hair. 220 The Old Musician s Fate You 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 Mol ian, Told us how he used to roam An play "Little Sally Waters" Ten thousand miles from home. He played a big church organ great, Played with his hands and feet, And often played the choir, too. Oh, it was just a treat. He played the jewsharp, 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 221 The Old Musician s Fate 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 did n t care Whether he fifed or fluted. He d rather play an anything, Unless it was to drink, Because he said it rested im 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 he fetched er out, Of all the lookin things, 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 biz, And when we asked him what it was ? He answered, " What it is." We laughed as we were seated round ; I recollect twas June ; 222 The Old Musician s Fate 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 did n t understand. The instrument we noted much, It had such curious stringin , 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. 223 The Old Musician s Fate O song ! O dirge ! 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 5 He s simply gone to sleep. 224 A RECORD F OM WAY BACK XT O spose I se gwine ter cuh-comb An boddah wid dis nag Ef I low d he was n t evah gwinter go ? Why chile, yo make me tiahed ! Dis ve y hoss was siahed By Pokehontas fohty yeahs ago. I se doctahed up his wheezin , An done stopped him ob his sneezin* ; En pahsley cuahed de spavin on his baik ; Ef he was n 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 ; But de famah said he did n 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 faince. 227 A Record F om Way Back De way I come to buy im Was, de day I come to try im I se dumb-foundered wid de way lie tuk de bit, An as I was on mah way baik, He kerlided wid a hay stack, An hi could n 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 strangus, An hi nevah low no pusson 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 im e s so thin Dat e could n t ketch s win , An Rasmus, yo could read a papah thro im. I tale yo he s a hummah, Low I 11 show de folks dis summah, 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. 228 THANKSGIBBIN IN OLE VIR- GINNY >-pER-DAY S Thanksgibbin , A En good Ian er libbin , Go gib de old hoss er double mess o* co n. Ole pot bubble Possum s in trouble, An* we s gwine ter Teas upon im sho s yo bo n. Nigger vvid de long straw he git de possum ; Nigger wid de nex straw de jack rabbit ; den Nigger wid de nex one he gets 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 off yo table Long as yo i able, 229 Thanksglbbin In Ole Virginny Kase poverty an* hunger may sometime come to yo*. Darky wid de long straw he git de possum, Darky wid de nex straw de jack rabbit ; den Darky wid de nex one he git de turkey, But de short straw done draw de litttle Guinea hn. De little speckle* hen, De little Guinea hen, DC short straw done draw de little Guinea hen. 230 GRAVE MATTERS W EN dis ole man comes ter die, Death is mos unsightly ; Doan yo lay me in no room Wid de pull-down curtain gloom ; Taint de place de dead should stay Wen de spirit s gone away, Off ter where hit s brightly. Struct de pa son Tore he gins, Tetch the subject tritely ; Kase hit s gcn ly undahstood I hain t been so pow ful good ; An fo him ter shout an groan Bout m settin roun de frone, Low hit won t look rightly, Wen do fun al gins ter start, Shove mah box in tightly. Membah I is in de hearse; Yo am comin , but I sc firs . Grave Matters Ef de mo ners grieve and mope, So s ter make de hosses lope, Keep de team up sprightly. Lowah me slowly in de grave ; Drap dc earf down lightly. Needn t linger long, and, say, Spense wid prayer s de better way ; Do n t keer ef nobody sings. Jes ter know de chu ch bell rings S gwine ter please me might ly COMIN CHRISTMAS MORN T M goin* 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 t was 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 ; 233 Comin Christmas Morn 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 gomphobers 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 5 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, Per all good girli an boys. My big cold storage warehouse stand* 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, 234 Comin Christmas Morn With Christmas gifts till you can t rest. I do n 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 saw, S when things is lit up nights You know we do n 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 do n t have very far to go To see the big North Pole, Where Uncla Sam has pinned his flag, There s where the cold wind pipe*, 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, 235 Comin 1 Christmas Morn And hear the tinkle, tinkle, as I speed along the way, Through forests bare, o er snowy plains. As sure as you are born, Old Santa Claus is coming, and Will be here Christmas morn. SAD FATE OF YIM YOHNSEN A Y been har een deese country Fern yar go laist week ; Ay been smart Norwehians Ay keets on pooty quvick. Ven Ay kem har Ay see beg krode Of fallers, en Ay tal Ay vants mae go pooty bad To da Stockholm hotal. De bus mans say vere you kem fram ? Ay say by Kopenhagen. Hae puss mae rate troo krode An get mae in his vagen. Next day get yob in enginc-hus ; 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 ; 237 Sad Fate of Yim Yohnsen She been har 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. Ay 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 mac hare partickley frande En den I tank she say, " Who vill be my papie Ven Yim is gone avay?" Pooty quvick she see vooman frande En den she say to mae : " Mister Yohnsen, please excoose mae, Ay vill meed yo after tea." En leeta vile Ay tank Ay go To da Stockholm hotel. Ay meese mae money, vatch en chain ; Ay feel mae not real veil. 238 Sad Fate of Yim Yohnsen 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 kem 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. 339 LEGEND OF THE ST. JOSEPH SPHERE S a place, pon my soul, A 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." So off to the river They all flew the ground, "Black Otter" as brave as could be, And the little pappoose He could n t get loose Was strapped to the back of Maumee. 240 Legend of the St. Joseph They floated till dark, When the wolf s 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 bow, 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. 241 Legend of the St. Joseph i 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 11 remember, A phantom one plainly can sec Walk down from the hole, In search of the soul Of poor little Walle-wo-ge. 242 Legend of the St. Joseph 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-gc. LITTLE JUDE OO little Jude, why, doan yo know *" Dat little chile ? A yeah ago Her muddah died. I reckon now Twais jais las spring F se 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. 244 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 chaih, 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 While, chile I kai n t I nevah will Fo get dat day. 245 LITTLE PUCKEN SINGER A E tank Ae gal bae " ote a sate," ^^ She bae Little Pucken singen. Har eyes bae bright, lake stars bae nate, An bae gol, mae 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 Drasses on, Ven Ae lave dae teeter hus. Des congs sha sings bae " Do Ce Las,* Bae des Spanish langvage written Da pootiest teng, Ae tank, der vas En al des vorld. Ae tank Ae smitten Ved har Ae lave dae teeter hus. 246 Little Pucken Singer Ae go an see har avry nate, (Ae vender 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 bus. 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 gale 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. 247 DOWN IN WALHALLALAH T PUT flowers on Leeda s grave Down in Walhallalah j 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 Walhallaiah. 248 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. 349 SANTA S PRESENTS FO DE GOOD T ISTEN, chil un, en I 11 tale yo - Ly What I seed de odder night When de snow had so t o cover d All de house top up in white. Way off yonder in de distance Pear d es ef I seed a road, En I heard de raindeers rassle Wid de bigges kind o load. Den I heard ole Santie whistle, En I low I heard im sing, But I know I heard is sleigh bells Wid a so t o culiah ring. Den e stopt is sled a minute En I listen d well s I could, En e sang : " I m on mah journey, But hit s only fo de good." 250 Santa s Presents fo de Good Den jingle, jingle, jingle, I could heah de sleigh bells ring, Hit was jingle, jingle, jingle, Den I heard ole Santie sing : t( l am on mah Chris mus journey, En I spose hit s undahstood Dat I only stribute presents Whar de chil un mighty good. ft I ride ovah de house-tops En I listen to de noise, Ef I hear de leastes trouble dere Twix little girls en boys, Ef I heah em quarrelin , cryin , Er see em wear a frown, I jes take out my mem rand En chalk dere number down. Den I so t o tech mah reindeers En I ride ter ebery house, En I linger neah de chimblys Whar hit s quiet as a mouse, Kase I like it whar hit s peaceful. Wen I heah em go upstairs En Itneel down by de trundle bed En say dere ebenin pray rs, 251 Santa s Presents fo de Good Den I listen, listen, listen, Kase yo see hit s undahstood Dat I m leabin presents mos ly Whar de chil un mighty good. Hit was jingle, jingle, jingle, I could heah de sleigh bells ring, Hit was jingle, jingle, jingle, Jes jingle, jingle, jing. "I am on mah Chris mus journey, En I Mow hit s undahstood Dat I m only leavin presents Whar de chil un mighty good." Yo kain t beleebe it, chil un, But hit s hones as de day, De monsus load ob presents Dat is piled up in dat sleigh. Dar was little pony hosses, w y, I gase dar was a million, En little sleds, en dolls, en beds, Dar mus* a bin a billion ; En blocks, en games, en an mul names, En monkey on a stick, en Nuff ob lasses kandy dar To make de hull worP sick ; 252 Santa s Presents fo de Good En little dogs en nanny goats Ef yo mus heah me talk, I saw a little bogie man Dat ac chley could walk. En ostriches, en singin birds, A-standin on a wiah ; En little hose cyart enjines, too, Fo* puttin out a fiah, En Noah en his an muls, All gvvine into de ark ; En devil feesh, en scuttle feesh. I jes want yo ter haik About a little hoo-doo man Dat had a funny tail ; En den I saw a Jonah man A-swallerin a whale. Yo nevah can imagine jes What Santie could o had, En none at all fo chil un Dat is impident en bad ; But all dat go to school en learn, En try ter ach up good Will sholy git a present, En he wants hit undahstood. 253 HEART OF HEARTS H, heart of hearts, how heartily thou beatest ; Each tender beat beats all the rest. Thou greetest Me each morn with ever-constant thumping Tis thou, dear heart of hearts, that keeps me humping. Oh, brow of brows ! By thy cold sweat I m browsing ; Each wipe I give thee gives the children housing ; The sturdy arm each day sets thee to sweating Both thee and heart get all the gets I m getting. Oh, will of wills ! Oh, wilt thou not or will st Thou push me on ? With grand endeavor fill st Thou my soul, the while ambitions blasting Shake out the deeds that shall be everlasting. 354 SYCAMORE pECOOLIARITY of his bark, * An yit not only that, We found im every mornin on The front peazzer mat. So Cenath got ter likin im, N one day says ter me, " I m goin ter call im Sycamore, He sticks so cluss," says she. She used ter sic im on the tramps That come aroun* the place, N book agents n other scamps, He d give em all a chase He scooted over fences, an Aroun the farm he d run, N then come back n wag his tail S if he d bin havin fun. I never had ter sic im on Ter any livin thing, 255 Sycamore I ve seed that dog take arter birds, Yes, birds at s on the wing, N chase em bout a mild er so, Ter see f they would n t light ; Then he d sit down V watch em till They flew clean out er sight. The dangdest dog he was t hunt, N had the keenes scent ; One day he smell d an animile, An after him he went. To rds dark he come a-laggin back, N any one could tell That Sycamore had captured im, We knew it mighty well. He pulled out every rooster s tail I had aroun the coop, N kept our yaller Thomas cat Hid underneath the stoop. An when a vehicle druv by He d skoot out thro th door N sic em down the dusty road A half a mild er more. He d lay behin the hottest stove N bark out in his sleep, 256 Sycamore N work his jints n try ter run J S if he was chasm* sheep, Till last he took a fit one day N stagger d roun the floor ; We thought one time he wouldn t live Ter sic em any more. He had fun with a peddler onct, An chased im round the well. I wish as you d a just bin there An* heerd that feller yell : " Git out ! Git out ! Call off yer dog ! " He thought his jig was up. Says I : " Do n t be afraid o him, He s nothin more n a pup." He used ter sic the thunder, too, An t used ter give us pain Ter see him set out in a storm N bark up at the rain. He d shift his head t one side When he M hear the thunder roar, N then bark all the harder f I d say : " Sic em, Sycamore ! " He sict all of my neighbor s sheep, N did a pile o harm; 257 Sycamore He took my horses and my colts N raced m roun the farm. I jist can see him runnin yit, His tail a-flyin high, But why it is we re mournin now Is how he come ter die. I sold im to a farmer cause He got so cross an mean, When one day long in harves time He jumpt a thrash machine. They said he give one little yelp N then went up the spout. Poor Sycamore got harvested, That s what we re sad about. We mourn to think our dear old friend At last got "squeezed in wheat." They found his collar tail some hair The rest was sausage meat. His gentle bark had sailed away Far to some canine shore. My wife shed tears n said, " Poor dog, He never 11 sic em more." 258 VOLAPUK VK7HEN I can speak ** Volapuk, Away to India s clime s I 11 sneak^ And on my adamantine cheek I 11 sell a piano to a sheik. I 11 sell the French and Dutch, And lease Pianos to the Portuguese ; Then I ll drive over and explain The new installment plan to Spain. I 11 journey south as far As Cadiz, And sell fair Andalusia s ladies Or I 11 exchange ; the mandolin I 11 take, and put an upright in. I 11 hie me then To Baltic strand, And sell Miss Boskovitch a grand ; 259 Volapuk And shovel off old Peter Katzski, Romanoff and Ruffbnratsky. Then far to Greenland I will go, And sell the sawed off Esquimaux ; I 11 eat snow soup and Polar bear, And try and work em on a square. Of course by this time I 11 have a Cheek as hard as Hecla s lava ; I 11 travel West, go through Alaska, Drop down and talk with Mrs. Chaska. I 11 court the Fijis On their isle, The old chief s daughter I 11 beguile, And talk piano by her side While I am waiting to be fried, When I can speak Volapuk. 260 MARY HAD A CACTUS PLANT MARY had a cactus plant, So modestly it grew, Shooting its little fibers out It lived upon the dew. Her little brother often heard Her say it lived on air, And so he pulled it up one day And placed it in a chair. Placed it in a chair he did, Then laughed with ghoulish glee Placed it in the old arm-chair Under the trysting tree. Nor thought of Mary s lover, Who called each night to woo, Or even dreamed they d take a stroll, As lovers often do. The eve drew on. The lover came, They sought the trysting tree. Where has the little cactus gone ? The lover where is he ? 261 THE DAY AND THE SHINGLE (A PARODY.) T HE day is done and the spanker, So oft in the hands of mother, Is soon to be wafted downward On little red-headed brother. I can hear the fall of the shingle And poor little brother s refrain, And a feeling of sadness comes o er me That seems to resemble a pain. A feeling of sadness and sorrow That must be akin to pain, It resembles a seated sorrow That boyhood can only explain. So I hie me away to the attic And put on a few pair of pants, And wedge in a big paper bustle Belonging to one of my aunts. 262 The Day and the Shingle I can see the lights of the village, And also the deep muddy pool, Where often I ducked little brother After the close of school. But she calls me down from the attic And asks me to take off my clothes, With her able-bodied assistance I get myself ready to pose. I take a recumbent position, The shingle then comes into play, Johnnie sits down in a corner And watches the sad matinee. As she presses her thin lips together I feel that at every rebound She puts on a vermilion finish Where my back forms sort of a mound. Such things have power to quiet The restless pulse of care, But it makes it rather uneasy To sit on a hard-bottom chair. Come read to me some poem, Some "Favorite Prescription" Iay 3 The Day and the Shingle That will soothe this restless feeling And take the stinger away. Read from some humbler poet A poem that relieves Something that s cold and frigid, From Wilcox or Amclie Rives. And the kitchen shall cease its sobbing, And the cares that infest the day Will quietly fold their breeches And silently steal away. 364 HUCCUM IT SO? TTUCCUM de cows so early home, ** Befo de milkin houah ? Bekase dey hyard it thundah, an* Knew las night s milk was souah. Huccum de she cat in de bahn, Up in de ole hay mow ? Bekase she s intuhrested some In raisin kittens now. Huccum dc darkes hoss to win Dat great big derby race ? Bekase he had de stuff in him An wasn t held fo place. Huccum dat sobah bank casheah To pack his trunk and get ? Bekase he knew dat Montreal Laid ovah Joliet. Huccum dat gal so shapely Dat fas nates ebery lad ? 265 Huccum It So Bekase she s got de sugah An knows jes how to pad. Huccum dat han some No th Side girl To make de public scoff"? Bekase her uppah story it Was jes a little off. Huccums de eyarf a shakin up An scarin people so ? Bekase dat s jes how Belzebub Remin s us ob below. Huccums de trees a-glis nin an* De grass all wet wid dew ? Bekase why, chile, de atmosfeah Had nuffin else to do. Huccum dese metafizicks A-healin people so ? Do n t ask me no mo* questions, chile, I tole yo I do n t know. 266 DE WATAH MELLEN SPLOSHUN TP\AR S one fing dat Hi would n t do Ef I had any common sense, Go sneakin up to massa s fence An* steal a watah mellen fro. Would you ? Hi kno dat mos ly fro de day He s lay in out dar in de sun Behin dat haystack wid a gun. Hit s loaded wid rock salt, an say You jay ! Do n t fool aroun dem mellens dar, Torpeders grow dar pon dat vine ; One busted las night long bout nine, An lifted some po niggah s har. See hyar Hi saw de sploshun when it cur d ; Hi saw dat coon a-flyin hence 267 De Watah Mellen Sploshun Off yondah ovah dat rail fence. Of course, I would n t say a word. I hyard Dat mos de fahmers tach d a line To mellens filled with dinahmite. Yo coons dat s gwine out dar to-night Jes scuse me ; gase I II stay behin . Now, min ! You kno Ole Birch, dat had one eye, Dat always got to church so soon, An clar d de eyarf went roun de moon, An said dat jes de reason why De sky In night time needed bettah light, Was jes cause wicked coons would steal From ebbery watah mellen fiel , But Gord would burn em up seme night. Dat s right. He was n t to de church to-day ; A bran new coon stood in de spot An set right whar he always sot. He was n t dar to shout an pray, Dat s what. 268 De Watah Mellen Sploshun Hi doan s pose none yo* niggahs hyard De reason dat I laft in church When some coon ast fo* Bruddah Birch, T was jes* las night dat, pon my word, DC sploshun cur d. No, sah! Hit s neva gwine ter do Fo any coon wid common sense To sneak up now to any fence An* try to steal a mellen fro, Dat s shuah. MISS BAHTHOLAMEW CTECKS we s gwine to hab a. time Bout dat free, mile fishin line. Dar s a ring Roun de moon, Sign dat trouble s comin soon. We s been lay in roun so long, Gettin rich an growin strong ; Reckon t won t Be much fun Stoppin balls dat weigh a ton. Specks de vey fus ting dey do, Dey 11 shoot at Miss Bahtholamew ; Po ole gal, Standin dar, Squintin o er de sea so far. Ris up, den, ole Uncle Sam ; Punch em wid a batterin ram ; -70 Miss Bahtholamew Hit em lef, Hit em right, Blow em up wid dinahmite. Long as Miss Bahtholamew Casts er shaddah on de blue, Let us stan , One an all, Waitin fb de kentry s call. Hise de flag dat made us free When de boys marched to de sea Jine an sing, Ebery man, Hall Columby ! Happy Ian . Keep Miss Libahty in sight, Holdin out de mighty light ; Gib free cheers, A tigah, too, Rah fo Miss Bahtholamew ! 371 THE COW SLIPS AWAY E tall pines pine, The pawpaws pause, And the bumble-bee bumbles all day ; The eavesdropper drops, And the grasshopper hops, While gently the cow slips away. 272 vt vtcunre. Wordt by Ben: P. King Jr. Moderate. Composed by D.E.M Ke* /. There s a -2 When X deep tan-gled path.... in the - ven - tide up on her grave re wild wood, Where a clin - - m g( Whea the 7 i i J 7 J J J *^H-^ phan-toro voice cow es whis - per ing to me, And it 1 birds have ceased to sing a . bove ber tomb. Will my 7 J |J= P Copyright, 1886, by The John Church Co. Used by permission of The John Church Co., owners of the copyright. 273 r [l i y J seems to n sad heart ic ike 4 dream of lev - er cease re child - - bood When I pin ing For rr.y jf^ J J t J i J JP1 1 1 -P p hfEEEE wan - der d with my loVed ti-^-M oer the lea, an - gel love that sleeps with in the gloom i=i * wan - der a - long n . gen -tie stars are shin - ing to a . up a mead - ow t But a bove me, While the ^=ti i ; j- r , r .= ^ I 5 = i phan - torn voice still fills me with de - spalr, ser aph an - gels lis ten to my . prayer , As jt There is 274 comes just from out a fceasJtce shadow, And it whispers to rce an -gel Yi \\ . one that ev-erwhJsj^rs still 1 Icve thee, And my answer is 1 worship Vi Vi . " ) There s a deep tangled path in the -iM i w _j wood UT.ore a *~ * I n " 3 .fcv/ r^rr- 3=*=^ ^=^=^- ! 23 i * ^ =*= =Lt * i_i__j phajitom voice comes whispering to me. And it seems tome like a dream of j|*F= -^ J j^^ ^>_.Ulj-J ^-ra- child hood When I w&r.dcr d vith rr.y loved one o er the lea. 375 CHORUS. Soprano. ^=rFffl T 1 -r+i SweetVi Vi - g ( fJllo. ers. An-gel so fair, Ev-er-more I shall wan- der to the qj_ or. =t= ^ SweetVi /Ban. Vi . guers, y-f^-r FT " * An.geJ so ( a r, Ev-er-more I shall wan- der to the fe s F \ . i rf In ] ] J J mead ow To eom-mun* -ith my an-gef Vi Vi-guer dim. sweet Vi Vi-gverr mad . ow To com mune with my an-gel Vi Vi -guers. sweet Vi Vi-guer. 2 7 6 Ben King s Southland Melodies Profusely Illustrated from Photographs Made by Essie Collins Matthews and Leigh Richmond Miner Forty poems in negro dialect by Ben King, who had remarkable ability in expressing negro thought and character. The verses are rich in humor and pathos and every poem bears the imprint of King s original style. The illustrations have a notable value and in terest in themselves. They were made by the foremost artists in the photography of negroes, who spent several weeks in the South taking these important photographs. Ben King s poems will never grow old. Toledo Blade. Ben King was one of the best humorous poets that Amer ica has produced. Saturday Evening Post. Ben King s verses may be recommended to those suffering from melancholy. Some of them will never be lost to the world. King had a sense of humor which was truly Amer ican and of the best order, intellectually speaking. The Chicago Daily Neivs. Handsome decorated cover and box. Cloth , large 8vo. Price, $1.50 net; by mail. $1.65 FORBES & COMPANY, PUBLISHERS CHICAGO Jane Jones and Some Others BY BEN KING With 1 6 Full Page Illustrations, in Three Colors, by John A. Williams. A Beautiful Illustrated Collection of Forty Poems from "Ben King s Verse." The book is beautifully decorated throughout and represents the highest art in bookmaking. Thou sands of admirers of Ben King s verse have given this book a warm welcome, and many others have been pleased with an introduction to his work through such a charming book. "The most attractive gift book of recent years." Piitsburg Dispatch. "It is a rare delight to look upon the volume." St. Louis Star. "The typographical effort of the publishers is splendid." Cincinnati Enquirer. "The pictures are admirable and thoroughly in the spirit of the book." Kansas City Star. "This is a fine book for a present." Chicago Tribune. "An exceptional book. The illustrations are as full of beauty and poetry as the verses, and the bookmaking is all that could be desired." Baltimore Sun. "Not to know Ben King s verse is a reflection on any man s habit of reading." The Journal of Education. Large 8 vo. Handsome decorated cover and box. $2.00. FORBES & COMPANY, PUBLISHERS CHICAGO BOOKS BY NIXON WATERMAN Editor of Ben Kings Verse " Nixon Waterman needs no introduction to the American public. One of our most natural and musical singers, his verses have been quoted in every newspaper in the land, and have gone straight to the heart of the great arrny; of just common folks. He is always an optimist. The world is better both happier and better for such verses as these of Nixon Waterman." The Chicago Record- Herald. IN MERRY MOOD \ Book of Cheerful Rhymes, 12010, cloth, gilt top, 208 pp., $1.25. " Genuine poems, aglow with high and pure senti ment and sparkling with fetching humor." The Congre- gationalist (Boston). " Nixon Waterman s verses touch the heart; they are the kind people love, and the kind that will live. He teaches the philosophy of garnering sunshine, and his religion is the gospel of brotherly love and kindness." The Worcester Gazette. A BOOK OF VERSES i2mo, cloth, gilt top, 226 pages, $1.25. " It will be impossible for those who love verse to read A Book of Verses without enjoyment, and more than one who ordinarily prefers to limit himself to prose will be beguiled by such numbers as these of Mr. Water man." The Chicago Tribune. "The simple form of domestic love outlasting all the ills, sorrows and wrongs of a long married life was never more sincerely and touchingly sketched in verse. Mr. Waterman sings of mother and motherhood in the sweet est and most sympathetic tenderness. Of childhood, of youth, of love his Muse plays wilh the young and com forts the Old." The Independent (New York). No poems are duplicated in the two volumes. Both books are choicely printed and handsomely bound. FORBES & COMPANY, PUBLISHERS CHICAGO BOOKS BY FRED EMERSON BROOKS The Popular Poet-Humorist 1 Brooks is a great poet and a genius of great ability. Humor and pathos abound throughout his poems, and many partake of the inspiration of the war-drum, but he is thoroughly at home in whatever strain of melody he chooses to adopt." The Atlanta Constitution. PICKETT S CHARGE AND OTHER POEMS Cloth, i2mo, gilt top, 214 pages, $1.25. " Pickett s Charge is the grandest heroic poem I ever heard." GENERAL MILES. "With a wide variety of theme, Mr. Brooks blends humor and pathos in all he writes. Many, of his verses have the brightness of the California sunshine and the sweetness of its flowers. Brimful of humor as they are, they point some homely morals." The New York Observer. OLD ACE AND OTHER POEMS Cloth, I2mo, gilt top, 208 pages, 1.25. "There is in Brooks poems the dash of the un expected, like a cavalry charge." GENERAL PHIL SHERIDAN. " There is a freshness and music and joyousness and jollity and naturalness in Fred Emerson Brooks poems that make them charming. In the handsome volume the reader can find something for every mood and con dition. He can shed tears or laugh; he can be jolly or sz&." The Inter Ocean (Chicago). No poems are duplicated in the two volumes. Both books are tastefully printed and beautifully bound. FORBES & COMPANY, PUBLISHERS CHICAGO 14 DAY USE RETURN TO DESK FROM WHICH BORROWED LOAN DEPT. This book is due on the last date stamped below, or on the date to which renewed. Renewed books are subject to immediate recall. O, REC D LD FEB 21-68 -2PM LD 21 A-45m-9, 67 (H50G7slO)476B General Library University of California Berkeley U.C.BERKELEY LIBRARIES 4