rRKSKXTKD TO THK UNIVERSITY OF CflLIFORNIfl \'.Y C. p. HUNTINGTON clUNE, 1897. flccession No. 70 3 J^ Class No, 3. •»j;* A X 1) \IISCELLANEOUS POEMS, T3 Y MART TAYLOR. OF TH15 riVERSITY IvANCISCO : 'J H.. I^OCAL. L.YRICS, AND MISCELLANEOUS POEMS, BY MART TAYLOR. i SAN FRANCISCO : PUBLISHES BT HUTCHINaS i KOSENFIELD, MONTOOHERT STBEET. 1858. 7?^. w Entered according to Act of Congress, in the vear 1858, BY MART TAYLOR, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Nothern District of California. TO Messrs. J. A. Mordo and J. E. Johnson, Managers of the justly- celebrated Troupe " The Pensylvanians " this little volume is respectfully inscribed bj iheir friend the author. PREFACE. Custom makes it the duty of every one venturing upon the ocean of litera- ture in a bark of his own manufacture, to explain to the public his private reasons for pursuing the rash and dangerous course. My only inducements are these : The Local Lyrics contained in this little volume, although sung by myself at the Melodeon and Lyceum in San Francisco, as well as to the only tune I ever knew, and in a style I have never heard recommended, have, npon every occasion, been received with marked favor by the large and re- spectable audiences who have from time to time patronized those establish- ments. Knowing that music or melody had nothing whatever to do with their favor- able reception, I very naturally came to the conclusion that the Lyrics alone were all that were wanted, and therefore, in compliance with the solicitations of many who have heard them, I have published a few selections from the same, together with a number of miscellaneous pieces, which, to make my book larger, I have inserted, at the risk of making it worse. '% MI§eEiLANE©MS PQimi AND BY MART TAYLOR. Mintn? L.ife ia rorty-nlne. Are you a miner ? reader if you are, Lay not my book aside, but read with care ; Whatever it contains for it is true, If you're a miner it will speak of you ; But are you not a man who digs for gold, Still I would urge you with assurance bold, To read my poem fur I hope to show A fund of funny facts you ought to know. 'Tis here I set my stakes and notice post, Now do not think that I intend to boast, I'll only claim my just allotted ground, And if I work it fault cannot be found ; But if I fail in my attempt to bring A ♦* decent color " as I onward sing. Bid me " dry up," I'll bear deserved blame And any miner then may "jump my claim." Now poeo tempo I intend to show, Just how the miner lives, that all may know His joys, his sorrows and his trials grt^at Through which he's guided by his fickle fate. Mine will not be a yarn of airy schemes, Or the rehearsal of romantic dreams. But with the truth and candor of a saint, A perfect picture I'll attempt to paint; And as a miner of his claim would say, Ido eincer'-ly *'hope" to make it pay. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS Hope — 'tis the magic of the miners toil ; Hope turns our rivers and upturns our soil ; Hope is a monarch that must be obeyed ; Hope — the propeller of the pick and spade; Hope is the miners constant guiding star That lured him hither from his home afar; And hope stands by him yes, he clings to hope, As would a drowning sailor to a rope. ^ I've got the " dead-wood " on attention now, So brother miners I will make my bow, Commence my labors or begin my lays, And make a book for you, forme a raise. Please follow me ^ith eagerness of soul While I jump down a deep " coyote hole." To reach the bed-rock many days were spent Removing boulders, picking through cement. Till here we are " as sure as dad loves eels," Fast in the mud above our " gum boot heels." Give me a pan, I'll see how much it pays, Confound the luck, I can't the color raise; Smart chance for bed rock stranger, tell us pray. Now don't it look as though it ought to pay ? " Well this is rather dull," says Georgia Dan, '* But one can't tell by washing with a pan." "There may be something in it yet," says Bub, " You bet your life the claim will pay us grub." Another pan and still another tried, Now they've prospected it on every side. And there's the claim they broke themselves and bought. Which with their labor has but come to naught. What shall we do, says one, I'd like to know, This claim I reckoned as our only show. I've had no luck says one in all my lite, I cannot raise a dollar for my wife ; And every time she's written me, I've been Assured that she is destitute of tin, Another says " come partners don't complain. Perhaps the next time we may strike a vein, And if we once get on the lead awhile, AND LOCAL LYRICS. 7 We've got the dead wood on a bully pile." This was their consolation, this has been The consolation of " a world of men." Indulgent readers let me have your eyes, I'll place them on more startling mysteries, I'll take them from you without causing pain, And in due season give them back again. 'Twill be my eflfort in these little lines. To paint a perfect picture of the mines ; Prepare to follow me, unknown, unseen, Along the banks of this late found ravine ; And as we plod along lets' notice all That may within our visual angle fall. Let's peep into this cabin, who is there? A rusty looking man with long black hair. With huge moustach that covers both his lips, And to his mouth affords a dark eclipse ; He sits in silent meditation now, A shocking shade has settled on his brow ; Let us observe him, likely time will show, The real cause of his apparent woe. See it appears at last his fancy's scope, $ Has quite inspired him with a gleam of hope ; He springs from his rude seat that has no back. And firmly fastens on a flour sack He shuts his cabin door, pulls in the latch. Seizes his bowie-knife and cuts a patch, Pulls off bis pants and plies some horrid stitches And quite relieved declares, *• I've fixed those breeches." Let's pass along for we will wish to stop A little while at yonder trading shop — Tis built of logs, the ground its only floor, A bit of canvas only for the door, Around the building hanging up on pegs Or scattered over tables, minus legs, A motely mass from cradles to a spade Compose the merchant's wondrous stock in trade, And o'er the room, that all may take good heed, Are hieroglyphics, which, if we can read, ^.-5--==-,^ ^^^'^Tb R A /I'y'^^^^ ^ OF THK ^ f TT-KTTTT'p-RCiTTV : MISCELLANEOUS POEMS Will tell us all that's in the miner's store Which, if not blind, we must have seen before — There is a maraoioth notice, see : *' No Trust," And there another : " Highest Price for Dust," And there's a fancy card which reads, I think, " The best of Liquors, but ' two bits' a drink." The day is Sunday, but left in the lurch Is Bible, prayer book, minister and church By those assembled here, who think the day Was given them to pass in any way ; Down in one corner seated upon bags Are men well dressed, with others quite in rags, All, quite forgetful that 'tis Sabbath day, With dingy cards are quite intent at play — The room is filled with men of many a hue. White, black, brown, red and some are getting blue, And there's a boisterous boy about fifteen, Who loudly laughs at one he swears is green. What means this oath that takes us so aback? 'Tis nothing only one has *' lost his jack." " I played the ace," says one, " The deuce you did," " Well, here it is, it cannot well be hid," *' Then I am beat again, confound the luck, Bring on the whisky, 'bar keep,' I am stuck." Kind reader let's together pass along And leave behind us this excited throng. This is a day, 'tis said, that God has blest And ^iven to us for a day of rest — A few observe it with religious care. But many spend it as you see them there. Is he " prospecting?" No I I see no dirt. Save what he wrings from that old flannel e^iirt ; Sunday is washing day, that pool his tub, And there's a " stack of clothes " he has to rub. Upon this day are sharpened all the picks- Each thing ihe miner cannot stop to fix Within the week, is left for Sunday, and He turns attention to it and his hand. Sunday, the busy day in miner's life, AND LOCAL LYRICS. He frames excuses to his anxious wife Or writes apologies to his sweetheart, With whom he promised not so lon^ to part — Pours out his soul in strains of earnest love, Tells her he prizes her tar, far above The golden ore that all around him lies. That soon he hopes to see her with his eyes, That he intends to stop a Utile while And make, if possible, a " bully pile," Throws in his love to all inquiring friends And signs his name, and thus the letter ends, And he's a happy man, his mind's relieved, If he expects the half will be believed. And such is mining life, and those who toil And risk tht-ir time on this our golden soil Encounter dangers mightier by far Than those of famine, pestilence and war. God bless the miner, is my humble prayer, And generous Heaven enable him, to bear The many trials that must be endured By all who are by hope of gain allured. To risk alike their fortunes and their health In their ambitious struggle after wealth. Alas ! dear friends, and must the truth be told, That hundreds, in their anxious search for gold. To bitter hardships have been willing slaves And been rewarded by untimely graves. Of all professions in our golden land. First in the rank we see the miner stand — That noble soul, who seeks by honest toil To win his fortune, even from the soil. Let politicians poll their wires and prate Of their wise methoils to enrich the State, Let judges keep their benches, lawyers plead, And priests and parsons tell us what we need, Let honest miners, who are toiling here, Suspend their labors even for a year, And though our State is wealthy now and strong, Our £1 Daradj would but live in song. MISCELANEOUS POEMS You see, dear friends, how much depends onyou- How necessary 'tis you should be true; In your endeavors, for you have command Of every enterprise in this y(»ur land ; Be honest then, and in your dealing fair. Preserve your dignity with jealous care. Though ficle fate may thwart your every plan, Yet each of you should prove himself a man. All for Money. What a funny world is ours ! Very funny — Full of sunshine, full of showers, Full of money — But the last is hard to get : What a pity ! Many are in want of it. In the city, In the village, in the town, Men are wandering up and down Through the valleys, o'er the hills, Selling notions, vending pills — And his land the farmer tills — All for money : That is funny. What a funny world is ours ! Yery funny — Full of thorns and full of flowers, Full of money — Magic money ! passing strange Is thy po wer — Mortals change about for change Every hour : Editors and printers toil. Authors burn the midnight oil, Plowboys leave their plows to teach, AND LOCAL LYRICS. 11 Dandies try to pray and preach, Misers strive to overreach — All for money : That is funny. What a funny world is ours ! Very funny — Full of sweets and full of sours, Full of money — For it people toil and slave, Striving ever — From the cradle to the grave — ' Ceasing never : Priests and cobblers take their tolls, Blessing, patching up our souls. Measures millers fail to fill. Doctors try to cure or kill. Tailors bring a wicked bill — All for money : That is funny. What a funny world is ours I Very funny — Full of cabins, full of towers. Full of money — Bridges made to get to heaven. Some are rotten — The camel and the needle's eye Are soon forgotten — Concert singers go around Murdering all harmonious sound, Politicians speeches make. Burglars heads and houses break, Men will all advantage take — All for money : That is funny. What a funny world is this 1 Very funny — MISCELLANEOUS POEMS Full of misery, Ml of bliss, Full of money, Through life on golden wings men trust To be carried, And at last in golden dust To be buried : Actors will, upon my word, Doubly murder Richard Third, Landlords will the hungry feed. Surgeons amputate and bleed, Mormons preach a wretched creed, Miners try to strike a lead, Euffians do a bloody deed, Lovers, lawyers, lie and plead — All for money : That is funny. Tlie Brokc'n Miner *s l^oliloquy* A'miner in his cabin sat Alone one frosty night. Plying his needle on his clothes Which were in piteous plight ; While holding garments in his hands. With holes in, long and wide. What wonder that he stopped his work And turned aside, and sighed. He had been here since forty-nine, But had been unfortunate ; Twas grating to his soul to think His troubles had been great ; He'd had his pick in many claims But picked out little gold. And now he was completely " strapped, ^^ And weather " strapping '^ cold. AND LOCAL LYRICS. 13 Since he had not a single dime It caused hira double pain — The reigning wish within his heart Was a desire for rain. Long time he had been out of *' grub/' Or nearly so, at least, He couldn't raise a sack of flour, Although he had some yeast. As he had no amusement now, Save musing o'er his fate, He straightway straightened out and took A drink of " brandy straight." He drops his work while tear-drops stand And glisten in his eyes, We hear him break his solitude, And thus soliloquize : " I've reached a wretched crisis sure, No surety have I But that I left my Peggy dear, To ' peg out ' here and die. I'm out of ' grub,^ I'm out of wood ; And one would well suppose, Supposing he observed me close, That I was out of clothes. " I've said to Gross, the grocer, that I trusted he would trust But ah I he durst not deal with me Unless I had the dust ; And mad am I, with Madam J, Who once got very mad And badly scared because she learned I hadn't got a ' scad.' " I've led a toiling life until My hands are hard as lead, MISCELLANEOUS POEMS Thougli daily bred to work I don't Work out my daily bread ; I cannot knead a loaf of bread, Though bread I really need, And though I lead a laboring life, I labor on no ' lead.' " No bolder hearted man than I Has e'er a boulder moved, And though I have improved my time By time I'm not improved. IVc staked off claims, done heavy work. Met many a heavy ' dun,' Run ' cuts ' in claims when it were best That I should ' cut and run.' '' When creditors came round with bills To get them ' squared ' I'd say I've poor grounds for paying when My grounds so poorly pay. To work my ' incline ' longer now No longer I'm inclined. And I've a mind to leave the spot * So spotted ' where I've mined. I've oft sent word to Peggy that I hadn't made a cent. And she contends for all of that. That with me she's content ; So back to Peggy I will go. Although I have to beg. And if I'm begged to leave again, I will not stir a ' peg.' " AND LOCAL LYRICS. * fjj^.^'i^^ The ConTentloii of Fislies. \^'' (.,; -or<\ " *Twas once on a time '' that a number of fishes, Put their names to a call expressing their wishes, That all might assemble where none could molest, ^ But each his opinion could tell to the rest ; So the fishes of every description and name — The ** big fish " and " small fry " respectively came ; And when a respectable number were there, The whale was respectfully tendered the chair. He opened the meeting by saying that he Would try and no longer than possible be. " That's a curious speech " said the sword-fish, " I vow, He could hardly be longer, he's eighty feet now/' ^ His whaleship declared it in very bad taste, That his " oil should be burned and his bones go to waste ; " And he furthermore stated he thought it unfair That the fishes should try to " make light of him there ; " And he blubbered to think that a fish of such pride. Should be always cut up and exceedingly tried. The porpoise arose and replied to the whale, And stated that he had been moved by his tale. But he said that the whale and the shark might be vain ; That they both have " fine openings " is certainly plain. Says thc'shark '^ I have never made any parade, I'm only a poor scaly dentist by trade, But my duty should be, to be on the alert And show to mankind I have teeth toinsert.^^ Says the shark ** the old whale is a lawyer no doubt — The porpoise a preacher and both of them sp(mt. And though Jonah the prophet in his whale-ship once went, The whale had not profited by the event. The cod-fish, like some in our cities now-a-days, By a vain worded speech began seeking for praise : He said that no one could declare him a fool, For the most of his time had been spent in a school, That the world all admired him, he knew by this sign, That to him mankind had dropped many a line; 16 'miscellaneous poems He tliouglit that the cod-fish were better than whales, Since they gave such a business to some of the males. The clam, who had scarcely been noticed before, All c/am-erous for honors appeared on the floor, And said that he hoped it were not out of place For one so neglected to open his case. He acknowledged he was of diminutive size, But br&gged on his muscle quite to their suprise ; And stated, though he was not sought for his oil. He often was found in a stew or a hroil. The oyster arose and modestly said The most of his time had been passed in his hed ; That he never had feared the fishes or snakes, But his virtuous bed was molested by rakes. The tortoise for honor began to contend By saying that he was the " Alderman's friend." Said he, " tho' I scarcely can move on my feet, I oft' travel far my admirers to meet.^' A fish of five inches now wished to be seen ; Says the cod 111 not listen to any sardine. The crab thought his presence no longer desired. So he left the convention and backward retired. The flying-fish flew in a passion, no doubt. At seeing so many old suckers about. The convention broke up and the members declare That like many now-a-days, 'twas a scaly affair. Tflklte Smitli, Esq. White Smith, Esq., as he is called. Is blacksmith of our town ; He's likewise Justice of the Peace, And one of some renown. He advertises he'll attend To blacksmithing and law ; Will file an affidavit, deed, Or even file a saw. AND LOCAL LYRICS. IT Sometimes he^s pounding in his shop, Sometimes expounding laws ; Sometimes he^s discontented, just Because he has no cause, Unlike the multitude of men * ^ I'll mention in my rhymes, ^' He's always best contented when *We all have trjing times. He'll not do a dishonest act, Some say, at any price. But I must state it as a fact. He has one heavy vice. 'Tis said he never plays at cards, But many, I will pledge. Have caught our model blacksmith at A favorite game of sledge. In courts of justice, Justice Smith, Intending to be iust, Convicts a man of forgery When duty says he must ; Then in his shop, all by himself, The same thing he will do — For true it is, for sake of pelf, He forges largely too. Though he is called a quiet man, I'd have the people know Whene'er you go into his shop He's always bound to blow. I've heard it said that he is free From all dishonest tricks ; Dishonest though it may not be, He steels the miners' picks. 18 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS Friend Smith, I hope, will pardon me For taking up his case ; Quite likely he's the likeliest man Now living in the place. » So greatly he excels us all In honesty, 'tis plain When his official term runs out We'll run him in again. Woman's Bigbts. Dear creatures of the gentler sex, I ask you for a single minute, To study carefully my rhyme And see if there be reason in it. The questions what are womans' rights And what belong to her dominion, Shall herein have the benefit Of my unprejudiced opinion. I deem it proper, just and right. That women write just what is proper ; But when she gets to raising Ned, 'Tis needless to attempt to stop her. I deem it right for pretty girls, Who for an offer vainly tarry. To drop a 'kerchief, glove or hint. Before some man whom they would marry. A belle may have a cutting tongue, It is her right and none can doubt it ; 'Tis her defensive weapon, and A belle is valueless without it. The belles may ring ( their fingers ) when They like, but then no one supposes, That they have any right to ring Their lovers or their husbands noses. AND LOCAL LYRICS 19 Mistaken mode gives girls the right To darken hair or whiten faces, ^ To lace their waist a little tight Or wear a hoop (in certain cases); Mode makes it right to hide their heads In Leghorn lanes where none can find them, Or would they have their heads observed To wear their bonnets just behind them. A woman has a right to scold Her children when they're cross and fretty, Or any one who dares declare That they are anything but pretty ; But then she has no kind of right To say her husband is a noodle, Or make him tend the baby while She takes abroad the precious poodle. The ladies have undoubted right To teach us men our bounden duty, To love, respect and honor them For their undoubted worth and beauty ; They have a right, most certainly. To share our poverty and riches. To mend our manners, stockings, and To mend, but never wear our trousers. Tanlty and Pride, y rhyme is of two little weeds, called Vanity and Pride, iat in the garden of our hearts are ever side by side. ley are weeds of very sudden growth, and, getting once a start, iiey choke the flowers that otherwise would beautify the heart, ^ey flourish in all seasons, and thrive in every clime, [ley were sown in Eden^s garden, and will perish but with time, ley are weeds that are productive of but very little good, nd 'tis said the breath of flattery supplies them both with food. will tell a truthful story, just to make the matter plain. 20 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS And prove to you that flattery will make one proud and vain. It is of my own experience, and perhaps, when it is shown, Twill appear to be, to some of you, a little like your own. Once I knew a little roguish maid, whose smooth and glossy hair Hung down in wavy ringlets about her neck so fair ; Whose eyes were so expressive, so lustrous, soft and blue, Whose pretty cheeks were blooming with such a rosy hue. Who seemed so like a fairy, I was touched with Cupid^s dart, And bowing at her queenly feet I tendered her my heart. When I told of my affection she granted me a smile. And from then, naught like her presence could my tedious hours beguile. I was constantly beside her, and my prospects were so fair That my mind was ever building golden castles in the air. We would often roam together, and would often spend an hour In the fields, the grove, or garden, where she seemed a lovely flower. She was skillful with the pencil, I was fond of making rhymes, In our rhyming and our pencilings we oft had merry times ; For my songs were all of Julia, and my heart was full of glee When I saw that Julia's pencilings were likenesses of me. Well remember I one bright day, one sunny day in Spring, We took a ramble to the grove to hear the gay birds sing. My soul was full of poetry, which burst forth into song — Twas as usual of my Julia, and I'm sure I meant no wrong : — Loud were my verses echoed back by mountains, trees and air. That Julia was an angel and the fairest of the fair, But alas ! my song awakened so her vanity and pride That she would never condescend to be my happy bride. So proud and vain in little time Miss Julia got to be. That very ugly likenesses she said were just like me, While, on the other hand, 'tis said, she often will aver That all my little songs of love were written just for her. Years have elapsed since that took place, and I am single yet. But Julia wished a foreign lord, and chanced a lord to get ; A lord who lorded over her in such a lordless way, That she, Oh Lord ! found him no lord, and from him ran away. AND LOCAL LYRICS. 21 A Tale of a Tailor. I once a dapper tailor knew — Folks called him Harry Shears — His hair was rather red and grew An ell below his ears. By fitting men with vests and pants He got a start in life, And panted to invest a chance To get a fitting wife. Marriage was on the tapis now, He laid aside his tape, And sent a Cape Cod customer A cloak without a cape ; He threw his yard-stick many a yard, Put on his coat and hat, And said — " I'll make myself a goose Or married man — that's flat ! " Of Sally Button he had heard The village people tell — She kept a millinery shop And little things to sell. She had a pretty pair of eyes, A generous nose and soul. And Sally's mouth looked very like A pretty button-hole. Shears sallied down to Sally's place As fast as he could walk, Sent in his press-board with his name Marked with a piece of chalk. Miss Button never stirred a peg, But looked the window through — So Shears popped into Sally's shop And popped the question, too. 22 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS The question took her by surprise, Shears took her by the hand, And standing OA^er her, he tried To make her understand : Said he " I've got the largest stock Of clothes in town, I vow — " " Oh yes,'' said she, " and, 1 suppose, You want a Button now." " Look here. Sir Press-board man," said she, You're smooth, I must confess ; And I might go and board with you, If I could stand the press. Of your discourse I see the thread. But must reject the plan — I'd truly be a goose to wed, The ninth part of a man." Shears didn't dull on this rebuff: His old goose never hissed. Nor did he wax a thread, until Accepted by Miss Twist. But then he didn't marry her — Because, I have no doubt, While he cut out somebody's coat Somebody cut him out. Said Shears, " I've got their measure now : They've given me the slip ; And since I can't the matter mend, - 'Tis sense to let it rip — So, I'll take up my quarters now Where I will be content By closing rents in peoples' clothes To meet my quarter's rent." AND LOCAL LYRICS. 23 l¥e Miss Tliee at Home. We miss thee at home, ah ! we miss thee, And grieve that thy presence so dear, Is wanting with those who but bless thee, While saying " we wish he were here." The friends who have mourned thy departure, In the land of rich treasures to roam, Thy memory cherish as sacred, While daily they miss thee at home. At morning, at noon, or at even. Our circle is never complete. And we offer our prayers unto Heaven, That soon, very soon, we may meet. Ah ! sad is the voice of our singing, And mournful the theme of our song, Since the words in our ears are still ringing — Oh, why does he tarry so long. Around the old family table, We daily, though sadly repair. For where thou wast wont to be seated, We notice the lone vacant chair. We miss thee at night in the parlor, Thy voice^s sweet musical tone Is wanting to gladden the spirit Of those who but miss thee at home. We miss thee at home, ah ! we miss thee, Thy presence is needed to cheer The hearts of that now broken circle, Who ardently wish thou wert here. Ah I little to us are the treasures That tempted thee far from our shore, Since we can but mourn for the pleasures Thy presence alone can restore. 24 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS liines to tbe I^adies Dear ladies, since I feel inspired, Both by my muse and inclination, I'll reel a roll of rambling rhyme, And unto you make dedication. IVe often been attorney for The males, who fancy they are giants, And now I'll undertake to plead A case for you, my pretty clients. And in my '' opening speech " I'll say It is a pleasurable duty. And worth my while to plead for worth, While worth like thine is found with beauty; And since you are the subjects of Abuse from many of my gender, I'll step aside from all the rest, And stand, undaunted, your defender. . Some, unacquainted with your sex. Pretend to be of the opinion That you were only formed to vex The males, o'er whom you hold dominion ; But, meeting many a matchless mind, That isn't unto folly given, This verdict I'm compelled to find : That you are angels out of heaven. Poor scribblers and our would-be wits Speak highly of you to your faces, Then, with poor puns and heartless hits, Attack you from their hidden places. No matter what on earth you wear, These knaves who seek your kind caresses, Discharge their pop-guns at your hair. Your bonnets, or your pretty dresses. AND LOCAL LYEICS. 25 * They call your bonnets " Leghorn lanes f You drop them, and the prating preachers Will swear you now wear bonnets small Just to display your pretty features ; And is your dress an inch too long, These men will call you '' sidewalk sweepers ;" And when you tack them up a bit, Why, it^s to show your pretty " creepers." Then lace your waist a little tight, Or waste your lace in " bibbs and tuckers," You still are quizzed and criticised By the same set of seedy suckers ; They raise a war-hoop at a hoop, And liken ladies to a barrel, But should you drop your crinolines. They'll still find fault with your apparel. Now, ladies, do not mind these elves. But treat their squibs as idle rumors, And when you tire of wearing hoops. Why, if you please, resume the bloomers. Just wear for ine a kindly heart. Let rosy smiles light up your features. Dress in a style to suit yourselves. And still 1 11 call you lovely creatures. Alexander Huuter. A. Hunter is my hero's name, And occupation too : To hunt the country o'er for game Is all he aims to do ; And yet A . Hunter comes to town Quite often, through the year, Upon no earthly business save To meat the people here. 26 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS The epicures about the place On rare-bits love to fare ; And with young rabbits Hunter can Just suit them to a hare. His venison, he says, is cheap — It may be — but I fear However much it tastes like sheep We must admit ^tis deer. When Hunter takes a deadly aim, He's never known to fail : Though woodcocks are afraid of him, He cannot make them " quail." When Hunter has his powder dry, And rifle all in trim. To charge upon a flock of geese, They say is '' ducks for him." Those well acquainted with the man Upon their word declare There's mischief bruin when he gets His eyes upon a bear ; And, strange although the fact may seem, I've often heard it said A. Hunter just from meat alone Can make his daily bread. At hunting, Hunter has success — But wherein does it lie ? Well, I have heard some people guess That it is " in his eye ;" Some lay it to his use of arms — And others, as I'm born. Urge that he " keeps his powder dry " — While some say " in a horn." AND LOCAL LYRICS. 27 Now I have but a word to say — Which is, that I have found That all the game which Hunter kills Receives a mortal wound. Long may he live — and early win A fortune and a fame ; And when his game of life is o'er, May death find Hunter game. Musings of a ITIaniac. Here by bolts and bars protected, Here by once prized friends neglected, Penniless, hence not respected, I am doomed to solitude ; Doomed alone to utter sadness, Such as prones a mind to madness — Nothing to engender gladness. Is there in my cell, so rude. Save by criminals unpitied. By the world pronounced weak-witted, Though no crime have I committed, I must be content to stay. As to-day, will be to-morrow ; Trouble IVe no need to borrow, IVe enough to feed my sorrow, That I cannot drive away. No ungenerous accusation, No unrighteous imputation, And no wrong insinuation, Would I on a mortal cast. Though I speak, and speak severely, I can say, and say sincerely, That I see, and see most clearly, Through the plottings of the past. 28 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS I've two friends that ne'er deceive me, Though at times I fear they leave me, Oft I welcome to reprieve me — Both my mind and maiden muse; And when comes my muse and reason, Gladly I embrace the season, And those blessed moments use. Come they oft, my soul uplifting, Conquering clouds around me drifting ; Come they like the sunlight, sifting Gently through my prison bars. Though their time I know is fleeting, Joyfully I hail the meeting, And I give them such a greeting, As the midnight gives the stars. Some in whom I've been confiding. My misfortunes now take pride in, There's no further room for hiding Motives that impelled them on ; They've accomplished, strictly speaking, All for which they have been seeking, And methinks they truly glory, As they circulate the story. That another mind is gone. He who needs an explanation, Little knows my situation. And can make true calculation Just how far his hands are clear. Furrowed, though, by care my face is ; Though in it they see the traces Of a maniac — my place is Happier than his, I fear. Am) LOCAL LYRICS. 2^ The Country Editor. The country editor ! how sage He looks while walking down Unto the printing office, from His boarding place up town ; Revolving over in his mind Some horrid row or joke, He passes on, wrapped up in thought, And in a Spanish cloak. His face, the type of dignity, That all respect commands, He thinks the nation^s destiny Is resting on his hands. His form now standing by his stand, Puffiing a play and pipe, Now setting leaded leaders up In his long-primer type. All night he has been writing duns To patrons in arrears ; All day the call for copy has Been ringing in his ears. And then with pi the devil made, He^s really been oppressed ; What wonder that he loves the pie The bakers make the best. Exchanges now are piling in, Letters, and bills, and duns, Conundrums, riddles, poems, and Excruciating puns. Among the rubbish, he receives A challenge from no less A personage than lawyer Blood, Who ** couldn't stand the press." 30 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS Seizing his quill, he seats himself An answer to indite — Of course his nerves are steady, but His pen's too poor to write ; He cuts his fingers badly when His wretched quill he mends, And courage, like his blood, begins To ooze at finger ends. 'Tis better I get out of this, ^^ So I'll apologise, For, taking now a second thought, To kill him isn't wise ; And should I fall by accident, The public would declare That in my death they lost a man The nation couldn't spare. The country editor ! how few Appreciate his lot ; Tho' he knows all the public's wants. The public knows him not. From purest " principle " alone He holds your interests dear, So take his paper every one And pay for it a year. Tlie Gold Dollar. RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED TO MISS MARY J. I do not mean the tiny golden coin — A circulating medium from the Mint — In value just a hundred cents, and which Has more of beauty than of value in 't. My song is of a young and beauteous girl. With wealth of wavy hair and sparkling eye, Whom I address, not by her real name. But one that I delight to call her by. AND LOCAL LYRICS. 31 Little Gold Dollar is the treasured name That she among her friends long time has borne — So beauteous in form and features that An angel for her beauty well might mourn. How fairy-like her movements as she trips, With heart and footstep light, across the lawn. As gracefully as ever darkness flits, When yielding to the coming light of dawn. In disposition sweet, in manners free, Ever as gentle as a turtle dove — So winning in her ways, that e'en to see Becomes at once a good excuse to love. So innocent is she, in thought and mind, Whenever in her presence one is brought, 'Twould be impossible for him to find A place to harbor one unholy thought. Long may she be as now, beloved by all. And may her path through life be strewn with flowers, And cares and troubles never intervene. To mar the blissful nature of her hours. May the Gold Dollar ne'er its brightness lose, But ever be incapable of stain — And growing dearer, as a jewel, prove A prize 'twould be almost a heaven to gain. Tlie Tegretable Girl. Behind a market stall, installed, I mark it every day. Stands at her stand the fairest girl I've met with at the Bay : Her two lips are of cherry red, Her hands a pretty pair, With such a pretty turn up nose, And lovely reddish hair. 32 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS And there she stands from morn till night Her customers to please. And to appease their appetite She sells them beans and peas. Attracted by the glances from The apple of her eye, And by her Chili apples too, Each passer by will buy. She stands upon her little feet. Throughout the livelong day, And sells her celery and things — A big feat by the way. She changes off her stock for change, Attending to each call ; And when she has but one beet left, She says, '' Now that beats all !" I.ines to tbe Devil. Stupendous Devil ! never have I seen Addressed to you a solitary line — And so, Old Nick, I will allay my spleen And dedicate to you a rhyme of mine : I cannot praise you much, for I have got No good impression of your real worth ; And then you^re ugly — but that's the lot Of some poor devils I have met on earth. I never saw you, as I recollect, And, truly speaking, trust I never may — When my long journey comes, I hope, expect, And pray, that it may be the other way. Old Scratch, I never liked you very well. Because I have good reason to believe That you played hob with Adam, and they tell How you beguiled our good old mother Eve. iLND LOCAL LYRICS, 33 At San Francisco, where I am installed, I've heard you mentioned morning, night and noon — Your name's a by-word — and I've heard it called In every street, as well as each saloon. That you have many friends residing here, I'll say, Old Serpent, that I have no doubt — You help them into business, but I fear You leave them then, and never help them out. Fve heard it said that you will soon be chained, And thus remain at least a thousand years — But even though your fate is thus ordained, I shall not pity you, or e'en shed tears. If you are thus confined, and cannot come To steal our souls away, there are a few (Although for worlds I would not number one) Who will not fail to find their way to you. If your Satanic Majesty will but \ Be angry with me just for speaking plain, And keep your doors against me ever shut, I'll pledge that I'll not troulde you again. Just keep away from me — leave me alone, I'll do my best to keep away from you — For as regards yourself, I'll freely own. That " distance lends enchantment to the view." ]IIatriinoiii.^l Joy§. My marriage as an act was wise, Above all other acts in life, For I can gaze in two fond eyes, And call their fair possessor wife. I^m proud of little mouths to feed ; It does me good to see them fed ; Long of a wife 1 stood in need, 'Till now I've one who kneads my bread. 34 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS It makes me happy, I declare, To notice one soul-cheering sign — My little girl has jet black hair, And nose the very shape of mine. I never fear an angry word When I away to town have been, Nor would I be afraid to board A dozen young and handsome men. A man's but half a pair of shears Who lives along without a wife, And though he lives a hundred years. He never lives but half a life ; He's always out of humor, health, And very often, I believe — Though he may be a man of wealth — He's sadly out at knees and sleeve. He plods along without a wife 'Till past the age of manhood, when He muses on his wretched life And thinks of what he might have been ; Then in the bowl he seeks relief — His last example is the best — He dies, and like a punished thief, Becomes a warning to the rest. Tlie Tillage Book-keeper. Cubanus Root was reckoned skilled In mathematic lore ; A high position, 2, he filled — Accountant in a store. His principal was pleased to see Progression in his clerk, And thai he took, from principle, An interest in his work. AND LOCAL LYRICS. 35 Whene'er a dance or ball came off, Cube Root was always sought ; But, likin.r)f S?a THIS BOOK IS DUE ON THE LAST DATE STAMPED BELOW AN INITIAL FINE OF 25 CENTS WILL BE ASStSSED FOR FAILURE TO RETURN THIS BOOK ON THE DATE DUE. THE PENALTY WILL INCREASE TO 50 CENTS ON THE FOURTH DAY AND TO $1.00 ON THE SEVENTH DAY OVERDUE. JUL 24 1936 PSEil2P6 § 69 AUG 4 REC'D ^ 1^ ^Q^30'65-5PM LOAN Dept. W t >EP 1 7 1971 % t \ ()\~ 4 SENT ON ILL LiSiJAHV USc HAR 1 5 199 ^1 SHP12 1957 U. C. BERKELEY REC'P ^^ SE?^ 18S^ tenrrfr- -SE^ 1 71-9 mas ^~i |