Class 2S_lil^ Book. Mr Copyiigtals' JO COFlfRiGHT DEPOSIT. Merry-Go-Roundelays Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2011 with funding from The Library of Congress http://www.archive.org/details/merrygoroundelayOOanth Merry-Go-Roundelays By Edward Anthony 'And the feather pate of folly Bears the falling sky." A. E. Housman New York The Century Co, 1921 TiT-)[[iTriiifni^i -~T-^Ji ^^ ^^ \l Copyright, 1 921, by The Century Co. SEP 22 (92J r/. ^'^ riA622892 A ACKNOWLEDGMENT For permission to reprint most of the poems contained in this volume, the author is indebted to the editors of Harper s Magazine, Life, Judge, The New York Herald, The New York Evening Post and The New York Tribune. CONTENTS PAGE A Hardware Romance 4 Cigar Bandits 8 An Overworked Understudy's Tribute to July 10 The Movie-Haters 11 Remonstration 12 At the Height of a Certain Craze 14 The Advertisers' Mother Goose 15 Triolet 17 The Gay Young Shavers 18 Concerning Office Boys 20 Ballade of Indigestion 22 Speculation 24 Concerning a Maiden 26 Zoological Doings 27 Hungarian Rhapsody 30 Concerning Mr. William Binks 32 The Old-Fashioned Ball Park 34 World Series Yarn 33* Joyous Piping 36 The Contents of My Lady's Handbag 38 Chicken Yarn 39 To a Chicago Friend 41 Toy Music 43 The Golden Age 45 vii iSBI Contents PAGE The Modern Poet to His Love 47 Rondode to May . ., 48 Remodel That Suit ! 49 Ambition 51 The Subway : Land of Democracy . 52 Subway Yarn 53 Dear Mr. Disher 54 March Song 56 Ballade of Potential Poems j'y Very Moving Pictures ^g "Begin the Day with a Smile" 62 The Ineluctable Lure 64 Any Lover to His Lass 65 The New Luxury 66 A Drug-Store Romance 69 Obregon Opera 74 "A Many Years Ago" 77 Paradoxygen 78 Duel Personalities 80 Within the Law 83 The Mirage of the Purchase Price 84 A Pipe for Milady 86 The Sour Cynic to His Love 88 "Parsifal" 89 Vital Statistics 90 Advice to the Wicked 92 Song 93 Bacchanal 94 viii Contents PAGE Criticism 96 Rondeau for Arguers 97 Nursery Rhyme 98 The Unsuccessful Trout- Angler 100 The Indomitable Bard 101 Ballade of an Ancient Bromide 102 A Recruiting Story 104 How It Happens 105 Barrack Ditty 107 Jeannette Malone and Private Green 108 Educating Royalty 109 Song of the Wide Open Places 112 The Bard Writes a Practical Rondeau After Leaving the Army 114 Ballade of a Sorrc^vful Singer 115 Beaten at His Own Game 117 The Story of Danny O'Doone 119 New Cure ! 1 24 A New Year Card 126 TOMEVILLE ANTHOLOGY Publisher's Ante-Room 129 The Publisher 130 The Author (1) 131 The Author (2) 132 The Bewildered Manuscript Reader 134 Orlando Sconce, the Child Author 135 To an Editor 136 ix Contents PAGE True Memoirs 137 The Poet Aroused 138 A Contest 139 The Lie Is Passed , 140 Epitaph for a Deserving Lady 141 SONNETS OF A BOOK REVIEWER I "Humorous Essays by Leander Scott" 142 II "Come for a Walk Down Melancholy Lane" . . 143 III "Anthology of Modern Verse" 144 IV "Tell Me, O Traveler" 145 V "How to Develop Personality" 146 VI "Suggestive Sexy Stuif" 147 VII "Another Small-Town Novel" 148 VIII "A New Detective Story" 149 IX "I Wonder What 111 Draw To-day" 150 Atonement 151 MERRY-GO-ROUNDELAYS .ji Y WORK on a merry-go-round^ Contributing sound To the jolly hand. I play on a battered lyre. Minus a wire^ At your command. There' s a horse (and he doesn^t need hay)- A brown or a grey. For each of us. Though I ride him poorly, mine Is a nag divine Old Pegasus! A HARDWARE ROMANCE T UELLA Loranna O'Shaughnessy Firth '■--' Is a clerk in a hardware store, Where she sells pots and dishes and bowls for gold- fishes, And dozens of articles more, Like mouse-traps and razors and skillets and bolts, Shovels and wrenches and forks, Harrows and hillers, potato-bug killers, Pump-handles and beer-bottle corks. (The enumeration of which you m_ay think Decidedly needless and queer, But I don't agree, for it seems to me That a poem needs Atmosphere.) Ricardo Persimmons O'Callaghan Wright Is the utterly sprucest of males. He enters the place for to purchase a case Of unbendable hand-made nails. WK 'A Hardware Romance (Either that or a ball of unshrinkable twine, Or a saw or a barrel of pitch, — Or was it an axe or a package of tacks ? I've completely forgotten which.) Be that as it may, he enters the store, (Of that I am perfectly sure) And his heart is gone when he gazes upon That sweetest of maids, the demure Luella Loranna O'Shaughnessy Firth, The most beautiful hardware clerk He ever has met, an engaging brunette With a smile (or is it a smirk*?) That has the effect, as I've hinted before, Of setting Ricardo awhirl, (As sometimes occurs when a maiden purrs) And soon he is telling the girl Of his prospects in Life and his Favorite Book, And his Love for Beautiful Things, While Luella smiles and the time beguiles With dreaming of solitaire rings. Orlando Themistocles Perkins O'Day Is the boss of the hardware store; 5 A' Hardware Romance These billings and cooings and general doings Must vex the old gentleman, for He hollers — or, rather, he shouts in a huff, ("Hollers" is vulgar, I think), ''Luella, stop shirking, it's time you were working, Ouit flirting with that there gink!" "Have you anything nice in a hammer, miss*?" Says Ricardo with wonderful guile; And the grumpy old boss is no longer cross. In fact, he commences to smile. Having purchased the hammer, Ricardo resumes His wooing of lovely Luella. He stays there for hours; the boss again glowers And curtly announces, "Young fella, "This isn't a lounging-room, kindly vamoose I" Serenely Ricardo then Says, "Lady, I wish a nice chafing-dish," And the owner is smiling again ! And again Ricardo is courting the maid. And whenever the boss complains He purchases something (however a bum thing) And pretty soon nothing remains. 6 A Hardware Romance In the store that Ricardo does not own, And he turns to the boss and declares, "I have bought you out! Now vanish, old lout!" The proprietor, saying his pray'rs, Makes a grab for his hat and in terror departs. The lovers emit a ''Hooray!" And kiss once or twice, or it may have been thrice, And that is the end of my lay! CIGAR BANDITS The Belgian Government has presented to the League of Nations a hill for cigars amounting to 80^000 francs. The hill says: ''These cigars were smoked or carried off by members of the various delegations at the Spa Conferences^ — News Item, T^HE delegate from Argentine, * The one from Transylvania, The gen°tle-man from Hindustan, The member from Roumania; The representative from Spain, The deputy Vesuvian, The guy who hails from New South Wales, The diplomat Peruvian; 8 Cigar Bandits The emissary Portuguese, The personage Sicilian, The delegate from Congo State, The dignitary Chilean — ■ They puffed a lot of fine cigars, Did these and other folks, And Belgium read the bill and said, (No kidding) "Holy smokes ! "I guess they think we're millionaires. They went and smoked our best And when they left, in manner deft. They went and swiped the rest! "We'd gladly buy the world's cigars If we but had the metal. But we are broke and other folk That bill will have to settle." I'm sorry for the Belgians, but I think that indignation Will get 'em naught, I think they ought To try cigarbitration ! / AN OVERWORKED UNDERSTUDY'S TRIBUTE TO JULY I\ A ONTH of July, I pine for thee ^ ' -^ As for no other month I pine. The boundless joy thou meanst to me Thou never, never canst divine. In fervent homage do I bow To thee and for thy blessing give A thankful prayer; for not till thou Comest do I begin to live. 'Tis not the glory of thy days, (Though glorious, indeed, they are.) That bringeth forth this song of praise, 'Tis something that to me is far More consequential; thy debut Each summer is the trumpet-call That tells me I don't have to do Friend Sister's lessons till next fall. 10 THE MOVIE-HATERS OUPERIOR beings, how they sneer ^ When movies are the theme. Mention Miss Pickford and they jeer, There's not a star they deem Worthy of praise, or photoplay At which they do not balk. How do the critters get that way? I'm weary of their talk. O Movies ! I am different, I Am mindful that you bring Real blessings; till the day I die Your praises I shall sing. You keep my family out at night Where they can't bother me When that I sit me down to write My deathless poetry. 11 REMONSTRATION Looking glasses removed from elevators in Bank of Com- merce Building because males block doors to admire them- selves.— N, Y. Sun, T NFAMOUS libel ! I protest ! ^ Who says that man is vain? I'll slay the author of that jest! The fellow is insane ! — Attributing to man, who's shy, Conceit and self-devotion, Because he stops to fix his tie. Well, what a silly notion I Why, I myself — and I'm a guy Who's modest as can be — 12 Remonstration Whene'er a gum-machine is nigh, Gaze in the glass to see Whether I'm tidy; business men Have got to, or they'll rue it. It isn't quite the same as when Those fussy women do it! A story like the one above Can do a lot of harm By spreading false impressions of Us men, whose greatest charm Is modesty. It isn't fair That man should thus be treated. Why, soon some folks will think that there Are men who are conceited ! 13 AT THE HEIGHT OF A CERTAIN CRAZE II OUDINI can wriggle his way out of chains, '■■ ^ He laughs at a strait jacket, too. He can slip out of handcuffs without any pains, There isn't a thing he can't do ^ In this line, but I'm betting a bottle of grape, Or a hat, or a couple of shirts. That Mr. Houdini can never escape From one of those funny tight skirts! H THE ADVERTISERS' MOTHER GOOSE THERE was a man in our town (20 minutes from Broadway; up-to-date schools, low taxes, etc.) and he, having attended Forest's Busi- ness College, was wondrous wise. He jumped into a bramble bush and scratched out, both his Perfection Brand Glass Eyes. SIMPLE SIMON met a pieman Going to The Apollo Movie Palace ("Fate's Doormat" now showing). Said Simple Simon to the pieman, "Let me have one of your FEATHER KRUST lemon meringues." 15 The Advertisers' Mother Goose T ITTLE Bo Peep has lost her sheep, ■^ And doesn't know where to find them. But she should worry ! her property will be returned to her In tomorrow morning's mail if she telephones THE INFALLIBLE DETECTIVE AGENCY, Murray Hill 89,000, Before six o'clock tonight. 16 TRIOLET NIBBLE, when the days are hot, Triolettuce salad. Something light that hits the spot Nibble, when the days are hot, Sitting in a shady grot Carolling a ballad. Nibble, when the days are hot, Triolettuce salad! 17 THE GAY YOUNG SHAVERS Students at barbers^ school have regular college yells. News Item, I STEPPED into a barber shop * To have my locks removed, An act of mine which I opine The barbers all approved, For as I sat me in the chair This joyous chorus rent the air: Sharpest razors! finest lather! Here the better people gather! There'' s no luaiting! Rah! rah! rah! Twenty barbers! Sis! boom! a-ah! 18 The Gay Young Shavers In silence did the barber work, Nary a word said he, Until in joy I thought, "Oh boy! I'm dreaming! This can't be! He doesn't even say. Tine weather !' " And then ten barbers yelled together: Pleasant day! The air is bracing! No more rainy days we're facing! Makes you cheerful^ don^t it, hey? Lovely weather! Ray! ray! ray! At last the barber's work was done And I stepped off the chair And paid my check and said, "By heck. The man who cuts my hair Deserves a tip; here, have a dime," And here is what I heard this time: Piker! piker! stingy miser! You're no kid! Why ain^t you wiser? Don't you know a dime's no tip? Tightwad! tightwad! hip! hip! hip! 19 CONCERNING OFFICE BOYS T F you would win your office boy, * Make it your business to deco The lad into believing that The only thoughts beneath your hat Are thoughts of baseball and of scrapping. Tell him the way The Babe's been slapping The pill has filled your life with pleasure, And praise Jack Dempsey, for good measure. Then, for additional effect, A monument to Cobb erect ; And gravely vow ('twill have no slight weight) That Leonard is no piker lightweight. You might toss in the observation That this is the most athletic nation, As proven by the Belgian games. (Mention Foss, Ryan and other names.) These thoughts and others just as sage Will prove you read the sporting page, And he'll be glad to work for you Until his place in heaven is due. 20 Concerning Ojfice Boys^ That's what I thought until one day I heard my office urchin say To Simpson's boy, his favorite crony, "I like my boss, he's all right, on'y He don't know nothin' but sportin' stuff, I'm sick of hearin' that there guff. I'm gonna chuck him soon's I can And look for work with some smart man." 21 -J^i BALLADE OF INDIGESTION T WHO have specialized in spuds and steak, ■■■ By way of victualage, since three or four, Gasp when I see a lovely lady take Her lunch in some apothecary store, And wonder, and shall wonder evermore, What there can be (O mystery!) to tickle Her palate in these items maids adore: A soda and a cruller and a pickle. When Henrietta, (what a bride she'd make!) The young enchantress who resides next door. Complains of — well, a little stomach ache All solemnly the knowledge I deplore. And tell her how the maids in days of yore Unto their constitutions were less fickle. Eschewing chow that evil record bore. Like soda and a cruller and a pickle. O heed my counsel for your family's sake ! Eat if you must, green apples to the core. Consume a parrot or a pickled hake, 22 Ballade of Indigestion Devour leaden biscuit by the score, Aye, every one of Nature's rulings floor, Let moonshine whisky down your thorax trickle, Do anything you please, so you ignore A soda and a cruller and a pickle. L'ENVOI: Prince, cast me on your darksome isle ashore, Life on this planet isn't worth a nickel. For I have downed — and, oh, my days are o'er ! — A soda and a cruller and a pickle ! 23 BBBlBKaHKiai^itti^^JSBSHi^ SPECULATION Train travelers can spend their time interestingly by trying to figure out the occupations of their fellow travelers. — News Story. nPHE gentleman beaming and fat, ■■' With the cane and the silken cravat, And the spats and the ten-dollar hat. Is a banker, I'll bet. The girl with the riotous socks (Vermilion, with lavender clocks) Is an actress, — she plays in the stocks — •On that I am set. The person away in the rear. With the very much amplified ear, 24 Speculation And the optic all puffy and queer, Is a boxer, I'd say. The lad who is reading in bliss That copy of "All for a Kiss," Is a messenger boy, or I miss. There's no doubting it, nay. The chap with the faraway stare. Who never stops smoothing his hair, Who's carrying flowers, I dare Say, is somebody's beau. The fellow whose shoes need a shine. Whose apparel is seedy; in fine. Whose appearance is something like mine. Is a poet I know! 25 CONCERNING A MAIDEN 'T'HOUGH a poet untalented I ■■' And pallid the lyrics I write, I am going (rash fellow I) to try A poem to Sue to indite. (If you doubt I am lacking in skill, The stanza above re-peruse, And you'll note — all observant folk will — The needless profusion of "to's".) Need I say, as is frequently done, That her eyes are Like Stars — ^need I tell That her hair's like the gold of the sun? On the curve of her mouth need I dwell? Need I say, to be brief, that the girl Is a beauty sans blemish or taint? A — to coin an expression — a pearl? No, I needn't. The reason : she ain't. 26 ZOOLOGICAL DOINGS Elephants, oxen and other animals dream, asserts natural- ist. — News Item, Chorus of Elephants Rocking Their Children to Sleep: OLEEP, little elephants, sleep, ^ Roll over and close your eyes, For the pachyderms who keep Late hours, aweary rise. Dream, little elephants, dream, As healthy elephants should. Of the days to be when you'll fly with me To our home in the Indian wood ! Chorus of Baby Elephants : First tell us a Bedtime Story, As is the fashion these days, With a moral or two, as humans do, Showing that honesty pays. Say, the story of Robert Rabbit Who stole a carrot and learned 27 JH Mi l llTMl M HlH I IIII'^'T nt n ini Zoological Doings That his ill-gotten gain brought nothing but pain For everybody concerned. Mrs. Ella Phant Undertakes to Tell Them a Story: All right, ril spin you a yarn, but a better one than that — The story of Ivory Ike, who was slain by a Maltese cat. Ivory Ike was a bad one, an elephant sour and cross, There wasn't an animal living he didn't try to boss. One day he met Maltese Mary, the nerviest cat I've known. She was perched on top of a mango, chewing a turkey bone. "Throw me that bone," Ike hollers. "You make me laugh," says she. Which gets that elephant's goat, and he scrambles up that tree (Enter Keeper) The Keeper: Enough of this prattle ! Climb into your beds Or I promise to rattle This stick on your heads ! 28 Zoological Doings (He extinguishes the lights) And they went to sleep that instant and dreamt of wonderful things, Of a glorious elephant heaven where the pachyderms have wings, Where there are no sign-boards reading, "DON'T FEED THE EL-E-PHANTS," And an animal can gobble whatever fortune grants, Where there are no chains on the feet and a beast can go for a walk. And there are no keepers to growl when a fellow wants to talk, Where there's heaps and heaps of peanuts and "eat your fill" is the code. And an elephant, like our poets, can take to The Open Road ! 29 HUNGARIAN RHAPSODY Hungary wants king. None but monarch can rule coun- try, is belief of people. Worship of pomp still strong, — News Item. REPUBLICS aren't bad at all, we thought of starting one, But having a democracy is not a bit of fun. It isn't colorful enough, we're very much afraid; We want some dignitaries royal in purple robes arrayed. We want a boss who wears a crown and sits upon a throne, In other words, a government that has a little tone. None hut a king can rule us. For a sovereign we beg 30 Hungarian Rhapsody He needn't he much else if lie Has got a decent leg. For monarchs wear knee breeches and their limbs must be correct^ Not but a man with shapely ones we're going to select! We're reasonable people, we do not expect too much, We do not ask a chief who knows astronomy and such, Political economy, biology and Greek. A guy who looks like something is the personage we seek — A feller who can fence and dance and play upon the lute. And cut a dashing figure in a pretty velvet suit. A man of regal bearing Is the person we'll endorse^ Whose blood is blue and also who Looks handsome on a horse. A ruler whose appearance isn't good upon a steed Would never suit our citizens and fill our crying need I 31 CONCERNING MR. WILLIAM BINKS V\7HENEVER Mr. William Binks ' ^ Would quarrel with his wife He'd grab his hat and leave her flat And run for all his life Until he came to Mike's cafe Where he would sit and brood, And drinking late, he reached the state That is commonly known as stewed. Then prohibition came along And wrinkled the nation's brow, And soon (it was awful I) all booze was unlawful, All liquor was seized, so that now Whenever Mr. William Binks Quarreleth with his wife He grabs his hat and leaves her fiat And runs for all his life 32 Concerning Mr, William Binks Until he comes to Mike's cafe Where he's wont to sit and brood, And drink till late till he reaches the state That is commonly known as stewed. 33 THE OLD-FASHIONED BALL PARK /^H, how I mourn for the vanished days ^^ Of the Yankee baseball park, Where I used to sing Jack Kleinow's praise And in wonderment remark The doings of Elberfeld at short And of Chesbro on the mound. Ah ! those, my friends, were the days of sport, The untrammeled bliss I found At the old Yank field I cannot find At the Polo Grounds at all; And I say this not as a rap unkind At the present-day brand of ball, Which excels the old. And though this I yield I stick to my preference For the good old Yanks of the old Yank field Where a feller could hop the fence! 34 WORLD SERIES YARN OAYS I to a pal, "Are you gonna take in ^ The Big Series^" He putteth his hand In his pocket and sighs, and there's tears in his eyes As he says to me, "Here's how I stand: "I've a dime to buy peanuts and also a card On which to mark down all the plays, And all would be nice as could be if the price Of admission I only could raise. " 'Tis more than a dime that I'll need for a seat When them Giants and White Stockings play. So I'll spend it on liquor and stand by the ticker In Micky McFadden's cafe." 35 |\gpi]\pfig(i^g> ^mrmn JOYOUS PIPING The corn cob pipe is coming back. — News Note. r\ LIMITLESS blessing ^-^ For thousands of folk I O bringer of gladness and chaser of sadness, Wherever men smoke ! O item that heartens A people forlorn! O bliss without measure for mortals who treasure The pipe made of corn ! O rapturous tiding! O wonderful news 36 Joyous Piping That soon, I am betting, will have us forgetting The passing of booze ! Go ring all the church-bells ! Sound bugle and horn! To-day is the day for to holler hooray for The pipe made of corn! Do everything mirthful And giddy and gay, Ecstatic, oh-boy-ous, exuberant, joyous, Your glee to display. rd join you myself In a minute, dear folk, If I had any cause to give vent to applause. But, alas ! I don't smoke ! 37 THE CONTENTS OF MY LADY'S HANDBAG A POWDER magazine, a puff, -^ *• A handkerchief of lace, (A gift from me — it cost enough To fix a pennant race) ; Some postage stamps all glued together, A nickel and a dime, A piece of useless ostrich feather. Some "fruit" drops (flavor, lime) ; A hairpin and a mirror and A silver pencil, some Vermilion rouge, a rubber band, A stick of chewing gum ; A shoe horn and some peanut shells, A street guide of the city. Some smelling salts she never smells And a clipping of this ditty ! 38 CHICKEN YARN Chickens fooled by scientific Long Islander. After dark he gets a flashlight, takes it out to the hen-house and flashes its rays on the sleeping chickens. They think it is day- time, wake up and commence to lay. — News Item, I F you would make your chickens work, -■' Don't feed 'em patent lotions, Or fill their crops with pills and drops; Eschew these ancient notions. Science with flaming torch in hand (Or flashlight, should I say*?) Advances now to show you how To make the critters lay. 39 Chicken Yarn Go to the nearest hardware store And buy a little flashlight, (You'll get one for a buck or more), And then proceed to splash light At midnight on your leghorns and Your Plymouth Rocks and so forth ; They'll think it's day and right away A hundred eggs will flow forth ! (Instead of being serious, Were I a wag I'd say You flash a light at dead of night, And quick's a flash they lay!) Oh, thus have many wealthy grown, I mean it — cease the laughter. You might do worse than heed my verse And shrewdly follow after. 40 TO A CHICAGO FRIEND T 'VE often said, when I have read ^ About your famous Chi., "I'd like to hand that city grand My card before I die. "Some day I'll crook a mileage book And make the joyous trip" — (The book alone I'd need. I own Pajamas and a grip) — "And folks back here for many a year Shall gaze at me in awe As I narrate the many great And wondrous things I saw." But now no more do I deplore That on your well-known village I ne'er have gazed. If it were razed, I might go there for pillage. But that is all would ever call Me Chi ward- — ^here is why: 41 To a Chicago Friend The other day, to my dismay, I happened to espy Within your most respected "POST" A motion-picture ad. About a show that months ago I saw right here,''* begad! * Bullfrog-on-the-Raritan, N. J. 42 TOY MUSIC E'S there in the morn and he's there at night, Peddling his toy violins, A queer little raggedy whiskered wight, Emblazoned with safety-pins. He fiddles a tune for the passing throng And nothing disturbs his poise, Not even the silencing of his song In the city's commotion and noise. Oh, I've watched him play for a decade or more, And though you hear never a sound, He fiddles away in the rumble and roar. Content, though the music be drowned. No one can chase him, a license has he. And, looking supemally wise. He plays whatever the tune may be . . . And sometimes a lady buys. A toy musician I've also become, Tve a little toy lyre with strings, 43 mm Toy Music And the noises I make as I strum and strum Are drowned in the rush of things. And as with the fiddler, no mortal can drive Me away, though my playing be A cacophonous kind of music, for I've A poetical license, you see. So I plink away on my little toy lyre, It's wonderful exercise. What more can a tupenny singer desire? . . . And sometimes a customer buys. 44 THE GOLDEN AGE Historians will never call this the Golden Age of Litera- ture. — College Professor, in magazine article, T AM a humble citizen ^ And hate to disagree With obviously learned men, And yet it seems to me . That college prof, is hardly fair. His reasoning is queer, For Harold Wright's a millionaire, The Golden Age is here I Professor, you don't know the facts, You ought to read the news, 45 The Golden Age Instead of dry and dusty tracts Devoid of any clues To Modern Litrachoor and sich, And then you'd know, old dear, That one Zane Grey is very rich, The Golden Age is here ! To contradict a man who knows A good deal more than I Is insolence that, I suppose, Most people will decry. Yet ere they lay me 'neath the sod I wish to make this clear : George Barr McCutcheon has a wad. The Golden Age is here I 46 THE MODERN POET TO HIS LOVE T^HE poems I sent you you coolly rejected, -■■ You called 'em poor piping, Not knowing that eight of the flaws you detected Were errors in typing, A science that ever for me has had terrors. (O dark circumstance I) You oughtn't to let typographical errors Bust up a romance. 47 RONDODE TO MAY OHE makes good fudge. Although I eat ^ Seldom of anything that's sweet, Fudge, when the stuff is made by May I munch with pleasure any day, The make is one that can't be beat. Bonbons (Fm not of the elite) With less of pleasure do I greet Than May's confection. Pass the tray! She makes good fudge ! xt s true the maiden has big feet, It's true her hair is never neat. It's true that rag-time makes her sway, It's true that she's a perfect jay, But these are trifles. I repeat, She makes good fudge ! 48 REMODEL THAT SUIT! MOTHERS — Have us remodel father s or elder brother's out-grown clothing into a modish suit for your younger son. — Advertisement in English newspaper. /^H, do not throw those pants away ! ^^ Be thrifty, Mrs. Jones! I know they've seen a better day And that your husband owns Another pair or two but, then, Think of your little son. He'll have a lovely outfit when The renovator's done ! Fie on you ! Mrs. Percy Root ! Oh, worst of all disgraces ! Throwing away that handsome suit Because it's worn in places ! 49 Remodel That Suit! Go see The Salvage Tailors, where For seven dollars, silly. They'll make you (Guaranteed to Wear) A Sunday suit for Willie ! Unselfish is this tattered bard In helping this campaign, For it is going to hit me hard. And let me make it plain : If folks stop throwing duds away And save 'em, understand me. When I go begging clothing, they Won't have a thing to hand me ! 50 AMBITION /^H, I am not a selfish guy, ^-^ Here's all that I desire: Some candy-shop ablaze that I May call a bonbonfire. 51 THE SUBWAY: LAND OF DEMOCRACY TJERE maidens democratic let *• ■■■ You sit upon their knees, And whether rich or poor, you get The onion-scented breeze. O radicals and such like chaps Who preach that ancient stuff — "There's no democracy" — perhaps You look not deep enough ! P SUBWAY YARN T^HE subway guard announced the street. ■■■ I did my best to hear him ; My failure being quite complete, I ventured, coming near him: "To foreign languages, good man, I offer no objection; But being plain American, I have a predilection "For English, sir; you might do worse Than formally adopt it." The subway guard began to curse, And when at last he'd stopped it, Said I, "You show great disrespect, That's pretty talk to hand me !" Said he, "How strange you should object Since you can't understand me !" 53 DEAR MR. DISHER A party of adventurers, headed by F. F, Rhodes Disher, fellow of the Royal Geographical Society, have decided to spend the rest of their lives on a tropical island away from excessive taxation. They will start for the South Seas in a schooner, the Medora. — News Item, T^HE humble fedora I wear, ^ My shoes (I have only one pair), The ties that with father I share Are taxed (they're luxurious!) The taxing of soda abides, The taxing of pills and of rides, And they're taxing my patience besides, So, mister, I'm curious To know if there's room on the boat 54 Dear Mr. DisJier For a sufferer minus a goat. Say yes and Til take off my coat And scrub all the decks, sir I There's no huskier lad in the land, There's no vessel I don't understand, I'll work for the joy of it and I'll be hand}^ in wrecks, sir. And, oh, when that island you sight And your passengers (bless 'em I) alight, You'll need a young man who can fight, To keep off the savages. And if lions attack, I'll elect To see their ambitions are wrecked, I'm a marksman and vow to protect You from animal ravages. I'll cook for the party and sew, I'll get up an amateur show, I'll work like the devil ! Let's go! Let me join your new nation! You've a place in the steerage, you say*? Do I mind the discomfort? Nay! Nay! I'll go get my baggage ! Hooray For the end of taxation ! 55 MARCH SONG HO ! for the winds of the month of March That whistle through beam and rafter. But a louder ho! I'll emit when they go And the breezes of spring follow after. 56 BALLADE OF POTENTIAL POEMS r CLOSE my desk and leave the town * For pleasures of the countryside, Where nature wears an emerald gown, (A bit of knowledge which I pride Myself upon), where gaily glide The butterflies o'er roses rare, And nature's joyous whims provide Potential poems everywhere. It's true that poets of renown Immortalized before they died The items I am setting down. But what of that? I'm gratified To think that famous men descried The beauties that I now declare. Like posies that 'neath boulders hide Potential poems everywhere. No wonder that I cease to frown, — A trout stream, look! (I'll have mine fried, 57 Ballade of Potential Poems With new potatoes for a crown.) Regard the cherry tree — a bride Decked out in white. Ah ! see, untied, The cows, (they must be tame for fair,) And hear the birds and their implied, Potential poems, everywhere. L'ENVOI: Fm taking Ethel for a ride. Here's stationery and a chair. You write 'em, friend, those undenied Potential poems everywhere ! 58 VERY MOVING PICTURES A Denver dispatch quotes a famous detective as saying^ "Most of the crimes committed to-day are the work of novices and boys who are influenced by melodramatic motion pic- tures ^ OTILETTO TOMMY, sometimes known as ^ Nick the Gizzard-slicer, Once tried as Dave the Dip and once as Lou the Loaded-dicer, It's charged you burglarized this man and hit him on the head, And did a dozen other things," His Honor gravely said. Attorney for defense arose, a person debonair. And offered these remarks the while he stroked the prisoner's hair: 59 Very Moving Pictures ''He was the nicest gentleman That I had ever seen Until the time he saw a crime Depicted on the screen. A'Stealing's not his business^ sir, 'Tis just an avocation That he acquired when movies fired His young imagination!" "There's something in your argument; release the man, attendant. And now we'll hear the Pinto Kid. Well, what's your plea, defendant'? You're charged with robbing twenty banks and hold- ing up a train. These wretched improprieties I wish you would explain." And when the Kid's attorney made the moving plea below I knew the kindly magistrate would let the prisoner go: 'He learned it in the movies^ sir, The chap was minus malice 60 Very Moving Pictures Till led astray the other day In Blooey' s movie palace. 'Twas poison to his gentle soul. Temptation came a-leaping! Ah, set him free, poor fellow; see How tenderly he's weeping!" 61 "BEGIN THE DAY WITH A SMILE" JV/lY desk-mate Jones was known to smile ^ ' ^ From morn till night — that was his style. At five he wore the self -same grin With which the day he would begin. He smiled whatever might betide, He even smiled when people died. One day I says to Jones, says I, *'Jonesey, I'm not a grouchy guy, I like to see a fellow smile. But you — you do it all the while. Doesn't your grinning ever end? How can you keep it up, my friend?" Says Jonesey then to me, says he, "You think that life's all joy for me? You think I grin because I'm happy? You do? Then guess again, old chappie. In magazines I daily read How people smile — and then succeed. They smile — and that is all there's to it. And that's the reason why I do it. 62 "Begin the Day with a Smile' By grinning ten or twenty days I figure that I'll get a raise, And if I keep it up, old dear, ril own the business in a year!" 63 THE INELUCTABLE LURE TTHE girl I wed, for aught I care, -■■ May have a nose like Punch's. She may have artificial hair In big offensive bunches. No ruby lips may be her boast, No eyes that brightly shine. She may be paler than a ghost. Her voice may be a whine. Her teeth may only number three. She may be fat or thin, But there will simply have to be A dimple in her chin! 64 ANY LOVER TO HIS LASS "\ A /"HY do we osculate'? What is the cause of it? ^ ' Who started kissing? And what are the laws of it? What is the meaning when lips come together? Is it a sign that there's spring in the weather? Is it a habit you learn from your mother? Or is it a sign that we love one another? 6^ THE NEW LUXURY Alarm clocks included in luxury tax lists. — N. Y. Herald. JOANNA, let me warn you that you'll wind up ^ your career As my stenographer unless you come in early, dear. I overlook your grammar and the way you punc- tuate, Though either one would warrant me in giving you the gate. Come, come, explain your tardiness, — and no pre- varication." The maiden brushed away a tear and said in explanation : "My father is a watchman and My mother takes in wash. 66 The New Luxury I spend on gum the little sum You call my pay^ begosh! Alarum clocks are luxuries Which we cannot afford^ And so Vm late and beg to state Yd like a raise ^ me lordT^ The richest person on our block is Jeremiah Brown, In fact, Fve heard it whispered he's the richest man in town. He's bought a big alarum clock on which the tax alone Is ninety-seven cents, I hear; it gives the family- tone. They lord it over everyone as though they owned the city, And caused this bard to grab a pen and write this little ditty: O^, hear it ring! A-ting-a-ling I The Browns* alarum clock! A sign of riches countless^ which is The envy of the block I 67 The New Luocury They set it going morn and night Their opulence to prove. Ah, woe is me I It's plain that we Shall have to pack and move! 68 A DRUG-STORE ROMANCE T SUPPOSE on perusing my title you said, * "Romance in a pharmacy *? Tut! The prospect is bleak; why, one might as well seek For romance in an Eskimo hut." Now, if that's what you said, — Fm not saying you did— But supposing you did, old dear, It simply would show that you do not know What happened in Sickle's last year. And where is this Sickle's^ On State, comer Elm. You remember that druggist shop With the window display showing bunions at bay. And the ice cream announcement on top. If you still do not know where the pharmacy is. Let me say that the Davidson barn, Painted purple and white, is a rod to the right, And now I'll proceed with my yarn. 69 A Dimg-Store Romance One morning Lem Hackel, a clerk in the store, Was brushing the counter, I think. Or making some pills for to banish some ills, Or preparing a strawberry drink. When a maiden — her name was Lenora O'Shea — Approached and announced, "I desire A package or two of that wonderful new O'Hillery's Face Beautifier." Now, Lem had a dozen assortments in stock — Rigardo's and Muller's and Brown's, O'Reilly's and Winkle's, Mezetti's and Finkle's, McFadden's, De Laney's and Towne's — But he had no O'Hillery's (that was the best) And fervently Lemuel swore, For the chap was afraid if he told her, the maid Wouldn't think very well of the store. So, inspired, he tells her, '^O'Hillery's'? Sure!" And adds (how the fellow was l5ang!) "But I'd like to observe, if you won't deem it nerve, That I don't think you need beautifying!" 70 -^ A Drug-Store Romance "Now, really!" Lenora exclaims with a smile, "You surely can't mean what you say." Lies Lemuel, "Ma'am, you're the prettiest lamb I've encountered in many a day." She throws him a kiss as she bids him farewell And leaves with a song in her heart To tell father and mother and sister and brother Her scorn for cosmetical art. A year has elapsed. And Lenora, poor maid. Has discovered she isn't so pretty. For she comes to the store, as she did once before. For O'Hillery's. Gosh, what a pity That Lem, who has finally put in a stock Of this article, should have forgot The occurrence last year! When he says to her Here," And sells her a box on the spot. She cries, "I perceive that last summer you fibbed When you said I was fair as a rose And didn't require your old beautifier," And, lo! she is tweaking his nose. 71 A Drug-Store Romance Oh, Lemuel's small and Lenora is tall And sinewy muscles are hers. She boxes his ears till the fellow, in tears. Cries, "Mercy!" and then it occurs To Lem that a maiden as sturdy as this Would make him an excellent spouse. He muses, "She'd wash all the clothes and, begosh. Do all of the work in the house !" So he says to her, "Lady, I've fallen in love With those sinewy muscles you own. Stop beating my head and let's go and be wed !" And into his arms she has flown ! " 'In strength there is beauty,' the poet observed," Says Lemuel then to his dear, "And you're certainly strong, so unless I am wrong, As a beauty you haven't a peer." And soon they are married and Lemuel still With his passion for beauty possessed Bestows on his bride, with professional pride, A case of O'Hillery's best! 72 A Drug-Store Romance And I hear, for good measure, he threw in a gross Of Rigardo's and Muller's and Brown's, O'Reilly's and Winkle's, Mezetti's and Finkle's, McFadden's, De Laney's and Towne's ! 73 OBREGON OPERA Mexican generals lose their jobs. . . . Many discharged. . . . Given choice between farm ownership and good jobs in factories. — Headline. "^ A 7E used to have a general for every dozen men, ^ ^ Which made our army beautiful, for nat- urally when You have a gang of generals all standing in a line^ And each of 'em is gaily clad and all their buttons shine, The spectacle delights the eye — and that is why we'd hire 'em, But generals are luxuries and so we're going to fire 'em! 74 Obregon Opera General Fandango^ Take off your pretty pants! Here's overalls! Your duty calls You to the plow. Advance! O General Piazza^ Remove that brilliant shirt! You'll hardly need it planting seed And digging in the dirt! A hundred thousand generals a-standing in a row. With ribbons on their bosoms, make a fascinating show. And when they wear their medals, and the same are polished bright, You'd have to travel many miles to see a finer sight. But times have changed and Mexico's to be a thrifty nation, And so our doughty generals are due for a vacation. O General Bandanna, The factory whistle blows! So hock your dirk and go to work. And doff your army clothes. 15 Obregon Opera O General Siesta^ Ere long you^re going to carry A dinner pail and earn your kale^ Like Tom and Dick and Harry I 76 "A MANY YEARS AGO" O AID my dad, "Be a lawyer, that's my suggestion, ^ The qualifications are your'n, You've debated with me on every question Ever since you were born." "He'll do better than that," my mother objected, "A banker he's going to be. He saves all his pennies, I've lately detected; He'll open a bank, I foresee." High hopes did they have in those days when their sonny Showed promise. O how they would gloat I They thought he had brains and would make lots of money — Alas ! the young man is a pote. 77 PARADOXYGEN {Provoked by G, K. C.'s American Lecture Tour,) nPHE atmosphere is decidedly queer, "■- It's evident everywhere. Fm not feeling well, and the reason : I smell Paradoxygen in the air I This rarefaction agrees with some, But I, who am bourgeois, find It hard as the deuce on the lungs — and a truce I seek with the Chesterton mind I Oh, Gilbert, I know there are many who like Your talks on "The Darkness of Light," "The Shortness of Length" and "The Weakness of Strength," And the one on "The Lowness of Height." They tell me you're simply immense, old dear, In that speech on "The Upness of Down," And I also have read that you're knocking 'em dead In the one on "The Blueness of Brown." 78 Paradoccygen My neighbor keeps telling me, "How I adore His 'Legality of the Illicit,' And I've also a liking intense for his striking 'Obscurity of the Explicit !' " Yet I am unmoved. And the reason^ Oh, well, The same I intend to expound Some evening next week, when I'm going to speak On "The Shallowness of the Profound." 79 eniBttes DUEL PERSONALITIES Recently Lord Henry Cavendish-Bentinck challenged Sir Hamar Greenwood to mortal combat in the House of Com- mons, . . . Within the past few months there have been other challenges of a similar nature in England^ but in each case it has not been difficult to persuade the disputants not to fight a duel, — News Item, LORD ALEXANDER RUPERT ROCHE was taking lunch one day With his distinguished fellow-peer, the Earl of Halloway. Said Alexander Rupert Roche, "I think the pheas- ant's great." Said Halloway, "Not pheasant, boob. That's quail upon your plate." Said Roche, "I say it's pheasant, sir! How dare you contradict me^" 80 Duel Personalities Said H., "We'll fight it out and see; no man has ever licked me!" Pistols and coffee at seven! There^s going to he a duel! Someone is going to heaven! (They say lords do^ as a rule,) When a breach cannot he mended A peer must have his fling! There's honor to he defended! And honor is no small thing ! Scene: Dueling-ground. The lord and earl and followers appear, The lord is rather shaky and the earl is acting queer. Yet, thaugh they do it timidly, each brandishes a gun, And it begins to look as though there'll be a lot of fun, When someone cries, "No Englishman should ever slay a brother!" Whereat the lord and earl embrace and warble to each other: ''The gentleman is right, I like his attitude, 81 Duel Personalities Ifs incorrect to fight. Improper, vulgar, rude. We owe it to the nation To be more dignified. Think of the desolation If one of us had diedT 82 WITHIN THE LAW (After looking into Walker's Rhyming Dictionary) I 'D any day prefer to starve Than have to live on quince preserve. My righteous anger it provokes To see folks read H. B. Wright's books. They should not be allowed to vote Who waste their time on such darned rot. 'Most anything I can endure, But not the scrambled metaphor. I often used to buy a pint Of beer my innards to anoint. ^tr ^c ^}c ^tf ^{f ^{£ ^k ^Ac How dare one use such rhymes "? . . . Oh, well, Walker says they're allowable ! 83 THE MIRAGE OF THE PURCHASE PRICE AyU^HEN I was very little I ^ ' Received each week or so A quarter from my dad to buy A ticket for a show. The quarter bought a gallery seat Away up near the beams, Whence I would gaze at the elite And wrap myself in dreams Of days when I, a grown-up lad, Should slap a dollar down And get the best seat to be had In all the merry town. After ten years of worldly strife I've managed to fulfil My dollar dream, but — such is life ! — I'm in the gallery still. The Mirage of the Purchase Price And when I'm able to shell out Four dollars for a chair, I haven't got a single doubt I'll still be 'way up there. 85 A PIPE FOR MILADY English society women smoke pipes, — News Item. COME, Arabella, and fill the bowl I— The bowl of my pipe, old dear — And puff away the livelong day Like the wife of a British peer! Oh, do not be an old-fashioned girl, Away with that cigarette ! A pipe for you ! And you'll smoke it too! I'll make you a lady yet! That pipe of mine has an odor, dear. As doubtless you have found. But I'll make you a present of one that is pleasant When your birthday rolls around. 86 A Pipe for Milady Do you wish a stem that is straight or curved? Shall it be a meerschaum, pray*? Or do you desire a little French briar, Or one that is made of clay? Oh, a perfectly stunning tobacco pouch You shall knit for yourself, my own, With trimmings of blue and of scarlet too That I promise will give you tone. And we'll go to smokers, my pretty one, And fill the air with a haze. And puff together in fair and foul weather The rest of our mortal days ! 87 THE SOUR CYNIC TO HIS LOVE A LTHOUGH you're pretty as can be, '**' I sing not of your charms, my love; Your splendid generosity, Sweet fay, is what I warble of. Try as I may, I can't compound A simple that would express Appropriately my profound, Immeasurable gratefulness. Your kindness tears me all to bits ; Accept my hereby given thank. Since you deserted me for Fritz I'm putting money in the bank. 88 "PARSIFAL" A T one the curtain rises, ^**- And then till half past five The singers sing, the rafters ring. And then you— well, revive. Great stuff— but, oh, so endless! — Proving, unless I'm wrong. The fellow knew his business who Observed that art is long. 89 VITAL STATISTICS Girl vote clerk town terror. Since election she knows ages of all women in her neighborhood. — Headline, T AM the village ballot-clerk, my name is Tessie *- Brown, I hardly need remark that Fm the terror of the town. I know the age of Adaline, of Sue and Elinor, (The latter claims she's twenty-three, I know she's thirty- four.) And since a girl can do some good with all this information, I'm starting Brown's Emporium of Age Investiga- tion! 0^, learn your sweetkearfs age^ And save yourself some sorrow! 90 Vital Statistics For all you know your dashing Flo Is forty-six to-morrowl Oh^ come and sample Brown^s Perfection Brand Statistics! They're guaranteed ! You do not need Those fortune-telling mystics! Statistics given while you wait, and prices very fair, If you can't call, we send a man to see you anywhere. All consultations confidential, she won't know you called. (I hardly need remark that if she did she'd be appalled.) 'Phone for appointment right away, we've got a private wire, And make it doubly certain that the maid's your heart's desire! To'day a gal of fifty Resembles twenty-two^ sir. Cosmetic art may win your hearty Investigate your Sue^ sir! She may he sixty-five For all her rosy tint age ^ So come to-day without delay And learn the maiden's vintage! 91 ADVICE TO THE WICKED OTOP a minute, ribald dancers, ^ Shimmying to hours late ; Harken, all ye wanton prancers, Hear this poetizer prate. Have you in your mad gyrations Thought of all the time ye waste? Thought of aught but hesitations, Thought of hours you've erased? Have you ever, crazy dippers. Thought of Hades and the Styx? Know ye that for midnight trippers Meeds of Higher Kinds are nix? Know ye hours spent in wooing Terpsy till the night is done Might be better spent in doing Pomes immortal, like this one? 92 SONG COR years Fve been trying to get up a scheme -*■ For suppressing the hard-lucky wight, — The fellow who has a perpetual stream Of sorrowful tales to recite. And I wish to announce Fve discovered a plan That is sure to bring sufferers bliss. And the same is quite simple: as soon as your man Commences, salute him with this: CHORUS: If you me your troubles you're gonna hear mine, — I warn you before you begin. You're not the one bird with a crick in the spine, Nor the one guy who's pocketbook's thin! Your trousers, you tell me, are worn at the knee*? Why, look at the patches in mine ! And, say, if you tell all your troubles to me You can bet that you're gonna hear mine I 93 BACCHANAL Great deposit of hootchite or hootchspar^ a mineral rock containing a large percentage of alcohol, found in Nevada, — Mining and Scientific Press. T MET a man the other day * Licking a piece of rock. Said I, "What are you doing, prayl You puzzle me, old sock." He licked that rock until I thought It soon would melted be, Then whispered, "Hush! I may be caught. This rock is boozy, see?" And when he'd finished with that stone, He took another piece, 94 Bacchmial And as a puppy licks a bone, He licked without surcease, And shouted, "Merry days ahead!" And handed me a chunk, And slapped me on the back and said, "Let's you and I get drunk I" Upon his back he had a sack Of rocks of every sort, And some were Scotch and some were gin, And some were beer and port. "Hurray!" he cried, "for nature's gift! While other mortals weep Who have no means of getting spiffed, We'll rock ourselves asleep!" 95 CRITICISM T QUITE agree with you," says Jinks, * "That Gilbert's funny as can be. But how can anyone who thinks Waste time on such buffoonery^" "O.Henry? Yes. I like him well, His stories never want for tang; But nearly anyone will tell You that he uses too much slang." "You're right," he'll say, "his stuff's not bad," When Old Bill Shakespeare's cause I plead ; "Although you must admit," he'll add, "That parts of him aren't fit to read." ^^ %t^ xL^ >!/• «1^ >1^ xl» ^^ *j* *j> *y* ^j^ ^j^ *j» Whene'er there's talk of Jinks, and my Opinion is solicited, I say, "He's quite a decent guy. Although there's nothing in his head." 96 RONDEAU FOR ARGUERS COMEBODY'S wrong. Who can it be'? ^ The trouble lies with you or me. That much I know, and would I knew Whether I err or whether you When we agree to disagree. My arguments you cannot see, And I — I shout excitedly, "You're wrong — you know it! — through and through!" . . . Somebody's wrong. We argue. Why? Because it's free? No. Don't we lose our time when we Stand cussing till the air is blue? What prompts us then ? Search me ! I do Know this: When all is s. and d., SOMEBODY'S wrong. 97 NURSERY RHYME A bath a day keeps the doctor away. — N. Y. Sun. AjK OTHER, may I go in the swim^" 1 V i "You may, my darling daughter; Don't stand upon the ocean's brim, But plunge into the water." "Mother, the water's very chill." "Suppose it is, my dearie? A bath to-day will save a bill From Dr. Hiram Leery!" II "Mother, may I go in to bathe?" "You may, my precious Emma." 98 Nursery Rhyme "The breakers toss, the sharks are cross, Fm in a great dilemma." "Be unafraid, my pretty one," And in the sea she knocked her! "A bath a day will keep away That profiteering doctor!" Ill "Mother, may I go in to wash"?" "You may, my sweetest daughter, Yes, any time, my darling; Fm An advocate of water." "Mother, there's lobsters in the sea." "Then watch 'em, love, be stealthy," And ducked the miss and chuckled, "This Is going to keep you healthy!" 99 THE UNSUCCESSFUL TROUT-ANGLER T 'VE got the kind of bamboo pole -^ That anyone would prize, And there is not a bloomin' soul Who's more, and better, flies. I've got an automatic reel That — well, it can't be beat; A dozen leaders and a creel, A line on which I'm sweet; I've even boots, a landing-net And O. Smith's book of rules, Preferring to be deep in debt Than minus needed tools. Despite which trappings, and some more, No trout's been in my net — Which isn't so surprising, for I ain't been fishing yet! 100 THE INDOMITABLE BARD 'T'HE fashioning of verses * When the nation is at war Is a crime that earns me curses, Yet I keep on writing, for The people who denounce me as we prime ourselves for battle Cussed my verses just as roundly ere the drums began to rattle. 101 BALLADE OF AN ANCIENT BROMIDE "When spring and young love meet, then the birds sing." -From "The Freelands," by John Galsworthy. 'HPHE platitudes are not "■- All made by Harold Wright, Full many the giants plot Upon the lofty height Where J. G. in his might Says birdies sing, "Tweet I tweet!" (A pleasant picture, quite) When spring and first love meet. Nor is the thing a blot Upon his 'scutcheon bright, He's only saying what Most authors, great or slight, Say when they must indite Some observations sweet Anent the moment trite When spring and first love meet. 102 Ballade of an Ancient Bi^omide What else to say? A lot Worse did "the sunbeams light With golden shafts the spot" Or "flowers their joy recite By dancing day and night." (Why tire their little feet*?) Pity the author's plight When spring and first love meet! UENVOI Oh, once I used to fight, Now undismayed I greet The old bromidic flight When spring and first love meet. 103 A RECRUITING STORY THE Recruitin' Sergean' he did say, "How tall be you?" Says I, "Six-four; I know because the other day I measured my length upon the floor." "Too big," says Sergean' with a sigh, "The trench your size ain't yet been foun'." "That ain't no hindrance," then says I, "Why can't I marry and settle down?" 104 HOW IT HAPPENS Readers on trains provoke conductors. Bookworms ride past their stations, then blame conductors. — News Item, O'NEILL has seized her by the throat, She screams ... to no avail. He flings her in the waiting boat, And down the stream they sail. He gloats, 'You're cooked, my pretty one: . . . I'm filled with indignation, — Not over what O'Neill has done — Tve passed my station! " 'Your love no thrill in me awakes, I'm seeking for romance ; 105 How It Happens ril never wed a man who makes His living pressing pants.' He hangs his head and heaves a sigh, Then cries in aggravation, *You little snob !'"... Conductor, I Have passed my station I "Midnight. The sky is black as pitch. A struggle . . . then some cries, And at the bottom of a ditch Poor murdered Hector lies. Oh, was the culprit's aim to rob. Or was the motivation ...*?"... Conductor, you^re not on the job, Fve passed my station! 106 BARRACK DITTY 'T'HE barrack is cold, the iire is low, * Who's gonna get the coal? The sky is gray and it looks like snow. Who's gonna get the coal"? The sergeant says, "Let the corp'ral go," The corp'ral heatedly answers, ''No!" And so The private is chased for the coal. 107 JEANNETTE MALONE AND PRIVATE GREEN (Camp Merritt Song) JEANNETTE MALONE picked up the 'phone ^ To spoon with Private Green, A soldier lad who boldly had Deceived this little queen. To win the lass he tried to pass As a lieutenant — so When Miss Malone picked up the 'phone And whispered soft and low : "Put on the wire my heart's desire, His name's Lieutenant Green," The answer came: "Don't know the name; But, lady, if you mean "A private, well, I'm glad to tell You that I know the sinner; But sorry, gal, can't call your pal — He's cooking the captain's dinner." 108 /fisienut EDUCATING ROYALTY Yankee teaches duke dice game. Royalty snubs erring nobleman. — News Item. TPHE Prince of Aramanda is a-shooting craps one -■• day With Edward Alfred Algernon, the Earl of Citronella. "Seven to five I roll an eight !" exclaims the Prince of A. When Adolph, King of All the Realm, a very strict old fellah, Comes trotting by on Suzerain, his celebrated steed, And, jumping off the same, emits a horrified, "Indeed!" 109 Educating Royalty ''Forgive usT^ plead the prince and earl^ ''We know how this must hurt you. A Yankee lad with habits had And no idea of virtue., Taught us the game^ he claims it is His country's national sport. We'll quit it, though, for gambling's low; Don't banish us from court!" "Ah, ha! you plead for mercy," cries the angry Adolph then. "Well, gentlemen, I needn't say I've got you in my power. And I intend to treat you as I treat all wicked men. Oh, Keeper of the Prison, put these villains in the Tower I" And in the Tower he puts 'em — yet they like it very well. For no one's there to hear 'em as they roll the bones and yell: "I'm shooting ten." "All right, I'll fade. Say, what's your point?" "i five!" "Well, two to one it can't be done! Come, roll 'em! Act alive!" 110 Educating Royalty "A five! I win! Now shoot the roll! I win again ^ old scout I Yll say thafs neat. If I repeat Yll buy the kingdom outT III SONG OF THE WIDE OPEN PLACES {Lament) SING me a song of the wide open places, Chant me a lay of the road, Memories bringing of lovable faces, Hovey and Carman — an ode Full of the joy of the wandering aimless Poets for ages have done, Stevenson, Masefield — and some who are fameless. Sing it in stanzas that run Over the tongue with the grace of a ditty Gilbert, in form, might have penned — Happy-go-lucky, ecstatic and witty — Then, ere your power you spend. Sing me a song of the wide open places, Chant me a lay of the road — Houses, if any, where lager still graces Bars in the vanishing mode. Hoi for the wide open places where Burton Heartens the blistery throat, 112 Song of the Wide Open Places Phantom cafes where undrawn is the curtain, Visions that only a pote Sees in his dreams when the summer sun chases Joy and a fellow perspires, Singing in vain of the wide open places In tune with the saddest of lyres. "3 THE BARD WRITES A PRACTICAL RON- DEAU AFTER LEAVING THE ARMY T is a job when one has spent A twelvemonth as an army gent To write a poem full of fizz. (What gems I used to write to Liz!) My muse a change has underwent. (My grammar too.) There's quite a dent In both. And I shan't rest content Until they're mended, though, gee whiz, It is a job To do a come-back. If my bent For o. f. lyric merriment Would but return ! My muse has riz Against all fluff. It's growing biz- Nesslike. Its theme, friend'? (This you scent!) It is— a 114 BALLADE OF A SORROWFUL SINGER AD are my days as ne'er before, ^ Great is the grief that visits me, Mortal has never suffered more, My raison d'etre has ceased to be. Before I plunge into the sea 1 offer prayers to Heaven above — (May they be granted speedily!) 'Tis summer and Fm not in love! Jimmy has copped an Eleanor, Artie a Grace (a pippin, she !) Charlie a Sue with tresses d'or^ (To gaze at her is to holler ''Whee!") Bill has an Edna on his knee, Davie, I hear, boasts a "Follies" dove, But I alone must sip my tea — 'Tis summer and Fm not in love! I weep for the kissful days of yore When I was a lover sorrow-free. The days, f'rinst, of the well known war 115 Ballade of a Sorrowful Singer When D and I sat 'neath a tree^ I reading my latest j apery In the camp's gay sheet, she thinking of Flowers for her bard . . . Return, fair D ! 'Tis summer and I'm not in love ! L'ENVOI Fm sad as Bill Hohenzollern. Gee, I'd welcome a tap from Dempsey's glove; This cheerless life I yearn to flee, 'Tis summer and I'm not in love ! 116 BEATEN AT HIS OWN GAME Woman is barber shop talker now. Milady, getting her hair bobbed, out-talks tonsorial artist. — News Item, QCENE: fashionable barber shop. o Enter milady, who Desires to lose her precious crop Of tresses. "How-de-do," The barber greets her, "Hair-cut, missT' "What then — a shave?" says she, "Barbers, I've heard, are talky; this Is proof enough for me ! 'Be careful how you bob my hair; Remember that, good sir. 117 Beaten at His Own Game I don't want everyone to stare, And say, 'Just look at her!' Done right I think it's nice, don't you? It makes a maiden chic. And anyhow it's something new, Let dad and mother kick. ''Goodness! The scissors tickle so! Yes, that is better; thanks. Ouch ! I believe you cut me ! No? Aren't we women cranks ! Brush off those particles, they itch. Brush harder! How they cling! O that is fine !" . . . As2de fro?n which She didn't say a thing I 118 THE STORY OF DANNY O'DOONE M going to tell you the fanciful tale Of Motorman Danny O'Doone, Who took out his trolley and journeyed, by golly, The distance from here to the moon. Some say that he rode to the sun, not the moon, Some people contend it was Mars, And others declare v/ith a knowing air That he landed on one of the stars. I even have heard it observed (and by folks Whose opinions I've cause to respect) That he's journeying still and eternally will, Providing his car isn't wrecked. There are versions and versions, and mine's not the task Of this one or that one espousing, But of telling the tale of a motorman hale, And how he went trolley-carousing. 119 The Story of Danny O'Doone Oh, Danny O'Doone was the rarest of chaps, A gay little dreamer of dreams. With a shock of red hair and of blue eyes a pair. And a headful of whimsical schemes. A passion for travel had Danny, he yearned For a chance to envisage the things That he'd read of for years, like Arabians, peers, The pyramids, ostriches, kings ; And mountains all covered with snow at the top, And the rivers they tell of in maps; And the faraway lands of the tropical bands Where the hunter the tiger entraps. And a thousand and one other marvelous things That only a dreamer can think of. And often he'd say, "There is coming a day When those wonders I'm going to drink of." Each time that he'd ride to the end of the line. At the country before him he'd gaze. With despair in his eyes, till one morning he cries, "A plague on these colorless days!" And opens the throttle as wide as she'd go Till he's shooting through space like a shell, 120 The Story of Danny O'Doone And with power divine past the end of the line He zips to the tune of this yell: "Oh, trolley la la for a wanderer's life ! For a life that is merry and free ! Who'd laugh and be jolly and chase melancholy, Come trolley la la-ing with me !" The trolley was empty, excepting for Jim- Jim Black the conductor — and he Joined Dan in the song, being equally strong For a bit of a rollicking spree. "Oh, Jimmy," says Dan, "we're escaping the world, And all of the problems that vex, And we'll have heaps of fun (though it's likely that one Of these days we'll be breaking our necks.) "Don't you think it is fair that this fun we should share With mortals who peace would secure? Philosophical folk who are harassed and broke, Let's offer to take on our tour!" And they put out a sign: ALL PHILOSOPHERS, HEAR! 121 The Story of Danny O'Doone WE OFFER A PROJECT SUBLIME! TO ELYSIUM THE KEY, IN THE FORM OF EXCURSION THROUGH TRACKLESS TIME! And soon there are passengers getting aboard — - A poet a-strumming his lyre, A butcher, a sailor, a grocer, a tailor, A plumber, a hosiery buyer,— And others who proved that they'd been through the mill, And had found this existence too solemn, And yearned to embark on a bit of a lark Ere gracing the obit, column. And soon they are singing, "Oh, trolley la la For a life minus worry and fuss ! Who'd laugh and be jolly and chase melancholy, Come trolley la la-ing with us !" And again they are bounding along at a pace That is certainly sixty an hour; And now they're in Spain or Japan or Lorraine, Or skipping past London Tower. 122 The Story of Danny O'Doone How'd they travel the seas ? At the bottom thereof There are cables, dear reader, there are ! Which they rode on in bliss — and I might say that this Was the start of the cable-car! They thrived on this life and most corpulent grew; Yes, even the skinny and* slight. Which proves, as I hear was remarked by a seer, That travel is broadening, quite. And for ages and ages they sped through the world, Till bored with terrestrial things. They heavenward pointed and joined the anointed, Then weary of angels and wings, They hopped to the sun, from the sun to the moon, (A wandering crew you'll allow). A planet a day was their schedule ; they may Be in lands Betelgeusean now! And I'm sure they are singing, "Oh, trolley la la For a life minus worry and fuss! Who'd laugh and be jolly and chase melancholy, Come trolley la la-ing with us !" 123 emma NEW CURE! Physical shock cured headache, — ^A^". Y, Sun, 1\ yi Y head was athrobbing to beat the band, ^ ^ ^ And feeling aweary and sick, I went to the doc and I cried, "Old sock, A couple of pellets quick!" ''Oh, pills are old-fashioned, the method I use Is better," the medico spoke. And hit me a lick with a hickory stick, And I hadn't a pain — till I woke ! I called on the Doolins not long ago, I'll never forget that day. His missus and Pat had a bit of a spat. And once, at the height of the fray, 124 ■^ New Cure! As the missus hit Pat with a ponderous vase, She said, "You are greatly mistaken If you think that I do it to hurt you ; I threw it A-thinkin' your head might be achin' !" Old Perkins was troubled with headaches for years, His case was a pitiful one; His pains would abide though the gentleman tried Every remedy under the sun. But to-day he has nary a pain nor an ache, No more has he reason to chafe; A neighbor assured me the fellow was cured The day he was hit by a safe ! 125 A NEW YEAR CARD A NOTHER year! Again the din -'*■ Of crowds atooting horns of tin, Again confetti in the air And bells aringing everywhere, As once again the months begin. Again the jokes — they're growing thin — On resolutions not to sin. Let's laugh, as though we thought them rare, Another year! . • • Here, friends, acquaintances and kin, — A New Year rondeau — and my fin ! I know the poem's only fair. Next year a good one I'll prepare. I'll be a better poet in Another year! 126 TOMEVILLE ANTHOLOGY PUBLISHER'S ANTE-ROOM nPHERE'S a fellow outside with a volume of "■' pomes, (The title, I think, is 'The Beautiful Gnomes'), He says it's the best of poetical tomes." 'Til see him next Christmas," the publisher said. "There's a gentleman waiting to tell you about A novel of his, which without any doubt (So he says), will make critics with happiness shout." "Oh, tell him I'm ill or in prison — or dead." "There's also a lady who's just come away From Russia; she says that the Reds are at bay, And she's willing to write it at so much a day." "I've just left for Portugal, China and Mars." "And then there's a bookseller — looks like a gink — From somewhere out West; Indiana, I think. I'll tell him you're out buying authors a drink." "A bookseller? In with liiml Boy, the cigars!''' 129 THE PUBLISHER OPEAK kindly of the publisher, ^ Cease aiming jabs and hooks. He spends his days devising ways Of landing worthy books. And granting that he spends his nights Coralling lesser writers, And stoops at times to make some dimes By peddling books by blighters. Like Charlie Cheer and Jennie Joy, And other slushy Biddies, Remember, please, that books like these Support the Wife and Kiddies I ^ blessing on his graying head ! Speak gently as he passes. Whose job it is (O thankless biz !) • To please all shades and classes. 130 THE AUTHOR (i) (As some readers see him) IT'S nice to be an author ^ And sit and smoke a pipe, And nothing do the seasons through But type and type and type. And have your picture printed In papers everywhere, And when you pass, hear lad and lass Shout, "That's him over there !" And daily open letters Containing wads of pelf. And live on steak. Some day I'll take The business up myself. 131 THE AUTHOR (2) (As he frequently sees himself) /V A Y neighbor is a lucky chap, ^ " ^ His livelihood is plumbing. At five clock (O perfect snap I) I see him homeward coming. His work is done, Fm never through, To-night ril ruminate Until eleven on what to do With Jones in Chapter Eight. And then there's Joe, the butcher- boy. Who lives across the alley, And nightly knows the boundless joy Of calling on his Sally. While Joe, a free man, woos his gal, I sit and dope a way Of making it seem logical For Brown to shoot O'Shea. Ah, would that I had had the wit To listen to my dad, 132 The Author Who — (well do I remember it!) — Said, "Learn a trade, my lad." Ah, then perhaps my work would stop At five or six o'clock, And rd be free as any cop Or tailor on the block. 133 THE BEWILDERED MANUSCRIPT READER /^H, there are many, many times ^^ When I am puzzled quite. Now, here I have a book of rhymes That seem to be all right. The author is a likely poet, Though certain things displease. I think I'll hedge. But how? I know ! "// Has possibilities F ' And here's a novel— rather good; But is it good enough? Search me ! There is a likelihood That I shall have to bluff. ril say — and what could be politer, Or easier to distill, Than a report like this: ''The writer ■ Is not -without some skillF^ 134 ORLANDO SCONCE, THE CHILD AUTHOR A T eleven Orlando his first volume penned, -«*^ Entitled ^'The Growing Karl Marxian Trend^'' An opus you'll like from beginning to end, It's so brimful of knowledge. O wonderful thing ! Here's a slip of a boy Who's able the weightiest terms to employ, His polysyllabical work you'll enjo'^' (If you've been to a college.) While other — and less cerebelle-lettred — ^brats Are tossing their baseballs and wielding their bats, He sits giving Plato or Emerson rats — Or indorsing 'em, maybe. Orlando's a child I should like to adopt, (I'd kidnap the lad, but, alas! I'd be stopped) And see that inside of a well he was dropped, The scholarly baby! 135 TO AN EDITOR nPAKE it from me, dear sir, if thou but knew- '■ Est with what pious zeal I worship you, (I should say "thee," but "thee" and "you" don't mate) I make so bold as to asseverate That stuff of mine thou'dst ne'er again taboo. And this affection, sir, is honest, true; Aye, true as that the well-known sky is blue Or that the thoughts are few in Bryan's pate — • Take it from me. . . . Most mighty master, I have penned a beau- Ti fully rippling rondeau, such as few. Except, perhaps, old Austin might create. And that thou better understandst how great My love for thee I shall permit thee to Take it from me I 136 TRUE MEMOIRS nPHESE memoirs," the notice declares, * "Are truthful as memoirs can be; The author (V. Racity) swears The book from deception is free* No coloring here, not a jot; No gullery, clever and bold; No tricks that the charlatans plot — = Aye, only the truth has been told." Oh, I am a stickler for truth, I frequently tell it, I do; It's an excellent habit, forsooth. And I venture you practise it, too (On occasion). But, oh, in a book Beguilement is all I desire. And I wear a much happier look When the author's a rattling good liar! 137 THE POET AROUSED TTHE hat that I had bought that very day -■• Some villain pilfered while I sat and lunched; "Which means the writing of another lay," Thought I, as angrily my teeth I crunched. And then and there I sat me down to write A poem that would buy another hat, And, summoning all my poetic might (Of which there's plenty, let me tell you that), Composed a lyric with a lilting strain That Editor Bill Perkins promptly bought. Showing that in the poet's desp'rate brain His power lies. And ever since I've thought, Ah, me ! What gems I'd fashion if by chance I lost my overcoat or, say, my pants. 138 A CONTEST T^EN poets send me verses," said Louise, *• "Or is it twenty'? (I've forgotten which.) And all these Pegasuspirations please, Making it difficult for me to hitch My cart to any one of you. The lines you sent Last week were sprightly but no better than The ones I got from Mills and Scott and Trent. The quality's the same. I therefore plan A test of quantity. Each man his quills Shall keep propelling for a fortnight. He Whose verse the largest stack of paper fills Shall have my hand in marriage." . . . Woe is me! Writing a dozen poems every minute, A free verse poet won. I wasn't in it. 139 THE LIE IS PASSED '\ A Whence comes the myth that poets do not eat? ^ ' Who manufactured the atrocious lie? The fabricator I should like to meet And ask the wretch how he can justify His statements. Only yesterday I ate. This month, not once, but half a dozen times In gilded cafeterias Fve sate (Oh, there are editors that buy my rhymes). Partaking, while the player-piano played The latest rag, of food as caloried As any man's. O mock not at my trade! False is the ancient jest, O false, indeed! Why, this was written, yes, this very lay, In Max's Busy Bee the other day. 140 EPITAPH FOR A DESERVING LADY OHE never wrote a book, ^ She wasn't literary. She stayed an honest cook, She never wrote a book, Contented not to look Beyond the culinary. She never wrote a book! She wasn't literary! 141 SONNETS OF A BOOK REVIEWER IT UMOROUS essays, by Leander Scott. ^ ^ Essays at humor one might call 'em too. Three hundred drowsy pages, but why not*? If sleepy, pleasantly so. My review — And this is only fair — shall praise the thing. There are two kinds of sleepy books, the ones By fourth-rate realists that nightmares bring. And those that pleasant sleep induce — ^by sons, Innocuous sons, of good old Charlie Lamb, Like this Leander Scott. If doze I must. Let me doze sweetly; worshipful I am Of him who knows that it is only just To lull The Gentle Reader painlessly. Leander, you are good enough for me! 142 Somiets of a Book Reviewer II Come for a walk down Melancholy Lane, Where someone dies in Squalor every hour. Oh, meet the Grand Viziers of Strife and Pain, Who write with what is classified as Power. I'll introduce you to the dwellers all. From Jeremiah Grim, who wrote "The Bum" To Mollie Murk whose "Sound the Trumpet Call !" Exposes evils in an eastside slum. Nothing escapes this gentry wideawake. They know that life's no picnic, yes, they do. They've just discovered Poverty; they'll make Other discoveries before they're through. Including this: that novelized despair Is bad at PoUyanna. . . . Give me air ! 143 Sonnets of a Book Reviewer III "Anthology of Modern Verse," compiled ^By Roger Canto. Roger, you are brave. Your guerdon shall be this : by fifty wild Unmentioned bards you shall be branded knave, (Including me; you might have run a few Of my pentameters, they're not so worse.) He who anthologizes (job to rue!) More trouble gathers than he gathers verse. If ever I become anthologist I'll mention everybody, good«or bad. I shall not take the chance of being hissed. Poets are dangerous persons when they're mad. "All Comers' Manual of Verse" I'll dub it, And though you may, I'm sure the bards won't snub it. 144 Sonnets of a Book Reviewer IV Tell me, O traveler, where have you been^ What is the land you write about to-day? What island paradise? What fair demesne? What tropical Elysium far away? Whate'er it be, write on ! Write on, I beg ! Tell me about the nose-ringed girls and all, Who promenade the forests bare of leg, (Showing that styles are universal.) Call To mind the natural beauties : streams and hills That shame the Occident. And tell of beasts That must have chased you and provided thrills. Tell of the tribal dances and the priests. Tell all, in fact! I am not one to say, "Tut! Saw it in the movies t'other day." 145 Sonnets of a Book Reviewer "How to Develop Personality," By Tad Tobasco, author of "Success," "Keep Smiling, Brother I" "Be a Busy Bee," And ten or twenty others, more or less. A personality, the author tells. May be achieved by all. Despair not, then. Acquire a snappy hand-shake. That's what sells Your wares. Be breezy in your talk with men, And never fail to slap 'em on the back. Keep your teeth clean and show 'em when you smile. (Five minutes' practice daily gives the knack.) Stand straight, walk gingerly and dress in style. And in no time you'll be a sprightly lad, As trig as any in a collar ad. 146 Sonnets of a Book Reviewer VI Suggestive sexy stun enveloped in A mist of mysticism. Little sly Approaches to the garbage can. How thin This slobber that Bohemians glorify! Author, what is your aim? To entertain? It can't be that. The stuff is far too dull. To teach the unsophisticated brain Sex hygiene or eugenics? They might cull Some information on these topics if You'd be explicit, but you only hint, And hinting merely leaves a fetid whiff. My guess : you like to play Bad Boy in print, You're catering to the natural desire Of every little boy to play with fire. 147 Sormets of a Book Reviewer VII Another small-town novel showing that The burgher is a poor benighted sort, Needful of rescuing. His talk is flat. The latest movie, how to cure a wart, Or baseball, is his topic. It is time We started a crusade to save his soul That wallows all these years in lowbrow slime. You give him Einstein lessons, I'll cajole Him into an appreciation of Good poetry. (I'll read him some of mine.) All kinds of learning down his throat we'll shove. Until he is no longer dull, supine. Until he knows as much as you or I And people take him for a City Guy. 148 mBOBMHOM Sonnets of a Book Reviewer VIII A new detective story, "Dirty Work," 'By Clarence Clue. A banker, Oscar Tuck, One morning dead was found. A bloody dirk Was in his gizzard. Someone must have stuck It there, is my deduction. Yes, but who? Was it the butler James or Tom the cook? It's rather difficult to say. I do Know this: somebody went and took The victim's famous Purple Amethyst. It must have been the man who killed him. Sure! And who was this assassin? I know. Hist! The man who copped the gem ! It's logic pure. There's not a mystery, however thick. We critics cannot guess — and bloomin' quick! 149 Sonnets of a Book Reviewer IX I wonder what I'll draw to-day. I hope The editor remembers this is spring And gives me nothing full of highbrow dope. I want a book of pomes with birds a-wing And blossoms blossoming and bees a-humming, And all the other silly details. I Insist not that it be inspired strumming. Tunes by a member of the smaller fry Will suit me nicely, so they tinkle well. Oh, sound is all I'm asking, pleasant sound, I'll even stand for rhymes like "bell" and "dell.'* (Sweeter the better.) Can the book be found*? I thought I saw one like it on the shelf. It's gone. ... Ye ed.'s reviewing it himself ! 150 ATONEMENT (After reading an essay on the nobility of labor) /^H, there are buildings waiting to he reared^ ^^ And there are highways waiting to be laid^ And new-built vessels waiting to be steered^ And farm tools waiting to be handled — spade And hoe and harrow. Oh^ the things that wait For eager hands! And here I sit the while. Making this tinkly word and that one mate. Adding and adding to the pointless pile, Stacking up verses till the flooring groans. Triolets, villanelles, ballades and odes. Light-hearted roundelays and plaintive moans. Free verse, rhymed verse — a dozen wagonloads. Oh, how atone for wasting all this time? No use to go to work, I don't know how, (We poets never could get used to grime). Yet will I make atonement — here and now. , . . Boy, bring the matches! Pile the poems higher! We'll fill the city with poetic fire! 151