ttS9, LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. Uiap..__.._. Copyright No UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. HEART AND HOME BALLADS HEART AND Home Ballads A BOOK OF NEW ENGLAND VERSE BY JOE CONE ILLUSTRATED. NEW ENGLAND New England first, New England last. New England all the time ; New England bound in stately prose, New England clad in rhyme : New England quaint, New England rare. New England proud and free, New England for the rich and poor. New England e'er for me * * * New Eng- land honored far and wide, New England staunch and true: New England fought for God and right, as she will always do. New England, freedom, liberty, historical and grand. New England, cradle of the just, the well- spring of our land * * * New England first. New England last. New Eng- land all the time. New England clad in graceful prose. New England sung in rhyme; New England quaint. New England rare, New England fair to see. New England once. New England twice, New England three times three I PKF.SS OF I.. E. SMART CAMBRIDGE, MASS. .899. TO THE FEW The author has no apologias to offer as they zvouldn't be understood, any more than will the poems he now collects for the first time. 39558 COPYRIGHT, 1899. BY JOE CONE. To my father and mother. New Englanders stauuch and true, who have done so much for me and for whom I can do so little, I lovingly dedicate this, my first book. _r [ Many of the poems in this volume are used through the courtesy of The National Magazine, The Boston Courier, Puck, Truth, The New York Herald, The Sunday World, The Detroit Free P> ess, and The Dramatic News. The poems, "Two Boys," "Mary Ann," ' ' Sinking The Merrimac, " " The Battleship Oregon, ' ' " Pick'relin' On L,izzard Crick," and " Popperty's Girl," were written for this volume and have never before appeared in print. ] \'(>n take the croicn/et/ city sffcefs. With life and shops ji^a/o/r : J 'II take the little -aHHulIaiul patlis Doivn In' the river shore. ) 'oit take the pitl>lic ^aniens cohere All is arraiij^eti In' plan : J 'II take the scenes laid out by Goil, .Inil nnilistiirheil by man. 3 'on take the fountain on the hncn. And listen to its tale : / 'II listen to the little brook That iniirniiirs throi/ii^h the Tale. ) 'o/t live the artijicial life, .And I will live the real : ^Ind joy loill ei>nie to me in mine 'J'hat vo/trs ran ne'er reveal . CONTENTS Pk()i:m, . . . . . l""R().\'risrii:ci:. Ji;\l CoULTKl-i'S \'lOLI-\, Bv Axi) Bv Dkivixc. H()-M)'; Till': Cows. JrsT Tin-; Samjc Today. Boyhood Days, Two Boys, .... My Yki.lkk Licc.ckd Ristkk. Salmon Rivick, My Daddy's X'ioi.ix, Dad's Bic. Mki.ox Patch. . IvrCrEXK Field, Kkkp Ox a Fish IX, FvKKY Day, A Drka.m Ok Lizzard Crick, DoNVx Ox Thk Mil, I, Stream, Lahok To Cai'itai,, Bii.i.y lUzzKY, . vSix(i A vSoxc. The vSimmer Felieix'. My Oi,' Dad, Not a Caxdidate, . 1'ick'ri;i. Ix \\'ixti:r. 7 lO II i6 . iS 20 22 ^^ . 26 2.S ■ r^o 32 35 36 37 3« • 41 43 • 44 46 • 47 49 • 51 53 1' \(;k Makv Ann. . . . . . . -54 Fishtn' By An' li\\ ..... 57 With Mahki., Xuttinc, . . . ■ 5>S The Biinikhv Timi;, ..... 59 Dad's Oi,' CtRindstonk, . . . . .60 vS MILKS And Tears, . . . . . 61 The Times That Used To He, . . .62 PiCKRELix" On Lizzard Crick, . . ^5 Natire's Instrument, . . . . 67 CHILDHOOD POKMS. A CtOOD Nk'.ht vSonc, .... 70 Poppertv's Girl, ...... 72 Her Old Rihher Doll, .... 74 A Brave Litte Soldier, . . . -75 The Actor's Child, ..... 76 WAR POKMS. SiNKiNC. The Merriim.vc, . . . .83 Remember The Maine, .... 86 The Gungawamp War Prophet, . . -87 A Late Volunteer, ..... S9 Volunteer Jim, . . . . . .90 Some Hard Qi'estions, .... 92 Keep Her Steady, Mr. Pilot, . . -93 The Battleship Oregon, .... 94 ^ .^ JIM COULTER'S VIOLIN. I. Jim Coulter was a farmer's boy of fifteen summers just. His form was clad in " older clothes," his face and feet in dust. But Jim was smarter than he looked, and music was his bread. " Could play a tune on anything," so all the neigh- bors said, " An' stid uv hangin' round the stores or larkin' with the rest, Wus alius makin' instruments fur which he seemed persest." But Jim had trouble from a source you scarce would ever guess ; His father laughed and poohed and scoffed at all such foolishness ; And presently became so harsh that Jim was forced to steal Away each time he wished to work or plaj' a jig or reel. " This farm work must be carried on," Jim's father said one day, " An' any traps o' your'n I find I'll smash without delay ! ' ' 12 JIM coi'i,tp:r s violin Jim had no tender comforter. — she slumbered "neath the hill : And so he delved upon the farm with saddened face and still. lUit boyish dreams and boyish hopes could not be driven in ; Jim stole away on rainy days and made a violin. "A crude affair?" why to be sure, but marvelous for Jim, And brought to light the hundreth time that genius lurked in him. And Jim was justly proud of it and kept it hid away , But Farmer Coulter's search for eggs unearthed it 'neath the hay. He fumed and raved and raised it high to dash upon the floor, Then dropped his arm in partial shame and looked it o'er and o'er. "No. no," said he, "I can't do that, but he will never see This cussed piece uv foolishness, not while he lives with me." Not many hours went by before Jim found his treasure gone ; He threw himself upon the ha>- too tearful and forlorn. Then slowly rising, full of wrath, his soul ablaze within. Demanded of the cruel man his little \iolin. JIM cori/rKK s VIOLIN 13 Yewr violin, yew lazy scamp?" the angry fanner cried ; Yew might as well ask me lur wealth an all the world beside." Then," cried the boy with flashing eye, his form drawn tall and thin. You'll never see my face again till I've that violin ! " 11. Ten years went by but not a word From Jim had Farmer Coulter heard. At first he cursed the vagrant Jim, And had as soon be rid of him. But as old age o'ertook the man He lost contentment in his plan. And on the kitchen wall he hung The little violin unstrung, In hopes that Jim some day might call And guess its mission on the wall. But he came not ; another year Went by and he began to fear That Jim would never come again ; And broader, deeper, grew his pain. Long lines of care marked deep his brow, His hair and beard were snow white now 14 JIM coulter's v^iolin While strolling o'er the hill one day He saw a Boston paper lay, In careless folds upon the grass, Where mountain tourists often pass. And glancing o'er this caught his eye : — " In Music Hall, assisted by 'James Coulter's famous western band. " A mammoth, summer concert, grand ! " III. An anxious crowd pressed round the door Of Music Hall that night ; Without, was naught but push and roar, Within, was gay and light. The famous band was on the stage. Conductor Coulter bowed ; And then a man infirm with age Sobbed "Jim, oh! Jim," aloiul. For there he stood his long-lost boy. So grand and proud and tall ; Conducting that big orchestra In Boston Music Hall. The clashing strains rose wild and strong. Then echoed strangely sweet ; And Farmer Coulter borne along, Grasped firmly to his seat. jiiNi coulthr's violin 15 He could not understand the spell, Nor where 'twas taking him ; And little cared, the truth to tell, P'or was he not with Jim ? When all was o'er, the music hushed, And Heme Sweet Home was sung. The farmer to the platform rushed. And to a parcel clung. And with a glow upon his face Like one released from sin. He sobbed aloud with his embrace :^ " Here — Jim's — yewr violin ! " BY AND BY. By an by I'll git my pole. By an by. There'll be heaven in my soul. By an by. I will steal away frum ma Down to where the fishes are ; I will spit upon my hook, An I'll drop it in the brook, By an by. Ma will miss me frum the yard By an by. vShe will holler lor me hard. By an b\ . But the gurgle uv the stream Like enough will drown her scream An I'll fish an fish awa\' Where the speckled beauties la\\ By an b>-. If I ketch a likely mess By an b\-. Ma will smile with happerness Bv an h\ . 15 V AND 15 V But — It I he\- an empty creel Somehow I kin sorter feel How that apple sprout will danct On the seat uv my ol pants, Bv an bv ! DRIVING HOMK THE COWS. Along the shady country road at silent eventide, Which wound half choked by running vines and overhanging boughs, Down to the distant pasture, oft we loitered side by side. Sweet Jessie Doane, we t\\o alone, behind the lazy cows. 'Twas sweet that hour at eventide, 'twas sweet to be with her. And tender were those thoughts of mine her pres- ence did arouse ; And I loved her, yes, I loved her, with a passion all astir. For she was fair, and none were there, while driv- ing home the cows. And so we trod the country road each fading summer day. And through the autumn when the frost had painted red the boughs ; And still I feared to tell her what my heart bade me to say, For fear she might not come again, to stroll behind the cows. 18 DRIVING HOME THK COWS 19 But as the heart commands the tongue, ere long I spake the word, And sweetl}' did she turn to me with lovelight 'neath her brows, And say that she would have me, — sweetest tones I ever heard ! — Providing she each night with me could stroll behind the cows. ^^ —.-J' <^ JUST THE SAME TO-DAY. I. Just the same are things to-da}- As in da^-s long passed away, I can hear those sounds I cherish when I pause to list awhile ; Just the same are sweet birds singing, Just the same soft cow-bells ringing, Rhyming, swinging. Chiming, singing, As when I used to wander to the river through the stile. Refrain : Just the same can I hear, Boyhood sounds all so dear. If I pause awhile to listen to their charm ; And once more I seem to be Just a blithsome bo}' so free, A-roaming through the wildwood on the farm. II. Just the same the river flows Where the wild carnation grows, I can .see its winding azure when I clo.se ni}- eyes to dream ; 20 JUST THE SAME TO-DAY 21 Just the same are lillies growing, Just the same soft breezes blowing, Swaying, flowing, Playing, blowing, As when I gathered mosses from the bank beside the stream. Refrain : Just the same can I hear Boyhood sounds all so dear, If I pause awhile to listen to their charm ; And once more I seem to be Just a blithsome boy so free, A-roaming through the wildwood on the farm. BOYHOOD DAYS. O take me back to the bo3'hood days, To my boyhood's happy dreaming; To the leaf-clad hills and the rhythmic rills Where the sun-kissed stream lay gleaming. take me back to the golden days, To the simple jo3-s I tasted ; For an older life in this toil and strife Is a life grown cold and wasted. I've tasted the fruits of middle age, I have found them tart and bitter ; 1 have found that fame and a lauded name Is onl)- a passing glitter. So take me back to the boyhood time, Where the great ghost life is hidden ; And lose me there in the woodland fair Where grief and care are forbidden. TWO BOYS. Sile Grover lived in (iungawainp an farmed it more or less ; Fur forty year he'd tilled the soil with more or less success. He lived a quiet, humly life, an alius paid his bills. An took no int'rist in affairs beyend his stretch uv hills. He labored hard an labored long, an dug a livin out, An met the stormy da>s uv life with honest heart an stout. No burnin flame harrassed his soul, ambitions none had he. He lived the highest type uv life, rare, sweet sim- plicity. He went tur church an Sunda>- school, an hed a class uv bo\s. An counted keepin well the days ermong his simple joys. An when he some tur die his end wuz peaceful ez could be. His work wuz done, his life well spent, frum sin an sorrer free. 24 TWO HOY.S He lived the highest type uv life, the great an holy plan, An when he died he died at peace with God, himself an man. Tom Jason left his father's farm at sixteen years uv age Tur dash his name with boyish haste ercrost the city's page. The country was too slow fur him, an tho' he worshipped Sile, He couldn't stay in Gungawamp, it lied no dash an style. He found a place an went tur work, an rose ez bright boys do, An j'ined the firm at twenty-one, a hustler through an through. No scheme wuz big enough fur him tur handle any- time, No hour wuz late enough tur work ef he could gain a dime ; No sum wuz big enough tur save, an so each year tur come He tried with all his might an main tur double every sum. Ambitious, full uv youthful fire, he entered poller- tics, An snatched a moment now an then fur clubs an social cliques. TWO HOVS 25 A busy man Tom Jason wuz, " a hustler through an through," Furever strivin after gain, furever in a stew : An tho he wuz successful, ez the world looks on success. At thirty year his health broke down frum overwork an stress. Deprived uv his great hope in life he sank in rapid pace, An died a-cryin out fur gold tur save him frum dis- grace. Two stuns p'int straight at heaven's blue in Gunga- wamp's church yard ; One over in the corner an one on the boolevard. One is a stylish monument, a grandlike thing tur see. An one a modest three-foot slab without no fiUergree. One is Tom Jason's monument, an one Sile Grover's stun, Two boys, clus frens fur sixteen year, whose lives so diffrunt run ; One representin dash an style an stress an worriment. The other, peace an good ol age, an humble life content. MY YELLER LEGGED RUSTER. I hed a little ruster once, A cur' lis little feller ; His tail warn't grovved, nur wuz his spurs, But both his laigs wuz yeller. He'd tag me all eroun the farm. Could fight, an alius win it ; Could lick a ruster twice ez small In less'n ha'f a minute. 'At ruster? He kuowed ever'thing. You couldn fool him, nuther ; Would scoot frum sight when pa come roun But warn't afeerd o' mother. An I. I planned a big career Fur 'at air perk}- chicken. An hed 'im roun the house so much 'At I come nigh a lickin. But one thing he wuz backards in, An 'at wuz on his crowin ; He is.'oiildn'' t crow, an air he wuz Purt big an still a-growin. -Mi -AIV V]:i,LKK LKCaiKI) RrSTKK 27 All I, I cried, an pa, says he, " Yew little tow-head sinister, 'At ruster yewrii is er hen. An ain't no kind er rnster! " SALMON RIVER. Per'aps yew never heerd uv it. thet silvery stream viv mine. Which blinks all day in a drowsy way. where lillies bloom an shine. It ain't in all the joggerfrys. it's .some too small I s'pose. It's way down in Connecticut, where wooden nutmegs grows. It wiggles frum ermongst the hills fur up beyend the town. Then laughs an groans o'er .stumps an .stones, an rushes madh' down Tell by an by it stretches out to meet the ebb an flow, Then marches back an forards like them reglar soldiers go. Upon the sunny western slope m\- l)oyhood home- stid stands, A tangled mess uv loveliness the toil uv lovin hands ; An frum the summit uv the hill is spread before my eyes A gorgeous spectacle uv land an water parrerdise. 2S SAI.MON KIVKK 29 I know jest where the fishes live, an where tlie lilHes grow, An where the birds talk lovin words, an where the mushrats go ; I know where sets the eagle an the hawk an fisher- king, An where tur find new wintergreen, an where the wild grapes swing. An on the moss-grown bank I set an watch the mirrored skies, Each great white boat in cloudland float beneath my raptured eyes. Ah ! Shakespeare never loved /i/s stream no bettern I love mine, Which blinks all day in a drowsy way where lillies bloom an shine. MY DADDY'S VIOLIN. When daddy face to face did lay With that grim monster, death : He called me to him and did say With his departing breath, " Now, Zeke, I'm goin tur leave ye soon, ( vSho, sho, now don't begin ) An promise me tur keep in tune Y'r daddy's vierlin. " I kennot take it over there, Tho' oft I wish I might ; So I mus leave it in yeivr care, Now promise, Zeke, tur-night. " It's cheered my heart fur many years. It's kep me frum despair ; It's kep away the doubts an fears I'v a life full uv care. "An Zeke, wen storms uv life rip things. Yew take the vierlin An draw the bow acrost the strings. An let y'r heart jine in. " But when I'm gone — there there, m\- l)oy Jes la}' it on my breast ; An leave it there in silent jo\ Tell I am laid tur rest : MN' DADDY S \I()I.IX ' ' 77/(7/ fake it, i/st- if. make it siii;^. ' IwHI kt'rp yc out iir sin .' ' ' Then he fell back, and every string Snapped on that violin. 'Twas years ago that daddy died — How quickly they have sped ! And oftentimes when sore and tried I have been comforted As daddy said I would ; and too. I have been kept from sin By sta\ing in the long nights through To iila\- his violin. DADS BIG MELON PATCH. Tliere wuz a time, in early spring, 1 dreaded most to scratch Frum early morn till late at night in dad's big melon patch. The patch it looked ten acres long by seven acres wide. An ever\' hill a mountain top, with valleys close beside. An then the hoe I hed to use weighed all uv twenty pound. An strained the sockets uv my arms at every stroke an bound ; The soil, tho' light, it seemed to hug the dusty earth like lead, An every hill I hed to make choked up my soul with dread. An every year in early spring I dreaded most to scratch With heavy hoe an achin hand in dad's big melon patch . Yew see the river lay close by, an sparkled in the sun, Jes tantalizin uv my soul with every gleam it .spun ; 32 dad's HIC. MIU.ON I'ATCH 33 An every ripple, all day long, jes beckoned nie aside. An showed nie where a fish lay hid beneath the silver tide. An wen all this wnz hanntin nie. how could a feller scratch With stiddy stroke an right good will in dad's ol melon patch ? But wen the autumn sun shone warm, an dew lay on the grass, An we hed shocked the field uv corn, an housed the garden sass. An wen the nuts begun to turn, an cockle l)urrs to catch. 1 hed no dread to spend an hour in dad's big melon patch ! Fur there would glisten in the sun them fellers, long an green, With meller. juicy, red insides. fit fur a king or queen ; An w'en a-.straddle uv the fence, with melons a hull batch. I soon furgot my sufferin's in dad's big melon patch. An so it is with every soul, the hull great human batch, We hev our mole-hill mountains here in life's l)ig melon patch : We murmur an we magnify, an dread to do a job. An look out on the river, vearnin fur its lazv throb. 34 DAD S BIG MELON I'ATCH We lain would throw away the hoe an laze beside the stream, An let the melons plant themselves, an fish an idly dream. But wen at la.st success hez come we gobble down our catch, An soon furgit the trials we've bed in life's big melon patch. i'(?7t' see t/ie r/Tcr /ay c/ose />y a/i sparkled i/i the sun. EUGENE FIELD. The little folks' friend has passed away. And his pen is covered with rust ; For the Lord is good, and he takes his own For a higher and nobler trust. ** O, the years are many, the years are long." And our hearts are tried and sore ; But we wait, Eugene, till the last great scene, To listen and laugh once more. The trumpet and drum shall beat and call. Though their champion's voice is stilled ; And Wynken and Blynken asleep shall fall. Of thy fancies their visions filled. " O, the years are many, the years are long," But in the far-off days to be. Thy sweet, sweet rhj-mes of the childhood times Shall be sung at the mother's knee. And little Boy Blue shall lisp thy name, In his mother's arms at eve ; And she shall tell of the poet king. And thy mystic tales shall weave. " O. the years are many, the years are long," We fain would learn what they screen : But we know thy .songs shall delight the throngs Forever and ever, Eugene. :!5 KEEP ON A-FISHIN". Suppose the fish don't bite at fust. What be yew goin tur dew ? Chuck down yewrpole, throw out yewr bait, An say yewr fishin threw ? Uv course yew hain't, yewr goin tur fish An fish an fish an wait Until j^ew've ketched yewr basket full. An used up all yewr bait. Suppose success don't come at fust. What be yew goin tur dew ? Throw up the sponge, an kick yewrself. An go tur feelin blew ? I'v course yew hain't, yewr goin tur fish. An bait an bait ergin ; Binieby success will bite yewr hook. An jew will pull him in. EVERY DAY. Life is growin brighter. Every day ; vSoiils are growin whiter Every day. Birds are singin sweeter. Girls are lookin neater. Life it grows completer Ever}' day. What's the use uv sighin Any day ? What's the use uv cry in Any daj' ? Wear an tear is killin, Sorrer is tew willin. Don't good tears be spillin Any day. Keep yewT song a-goin Every day ; Keep yewr music flowin Every day. Cast off sad repinin. Shine the murky linin, Keep the sun a-shinin Everv dav. A DREAM OF LIZZARI) CRICK. Tuniight my heart is longiii an in\- pulse is beatin quick, Cu/. my thoughts hev gone a-drittin to the banks uv Lizzard Crick ; To the scenes uv child an boyhood, to the stream I wooed an won, Where the lillies on its bosom nod an sparkle in the sun. An I see the grasses wavin an I hear a little " swish." An I know it is a mushrat or a greedy, startled fish. An I reach my hand beside me, then I draw it back- ward quick When I find I (rtV/ a-fishin on the banks uv Lizzard Crick. I kin see the darkened eddies where the water circles roun. Bearin chips an foamy white-cups, ever ridin up an down ; I kin see the slantin shadders ez they play ercrost the stream. An the winders threw the l)ranches castin here an thire a sfleam. A DRKAM OF I.IZZAKI) CKICK 39 I kin see the sandy bottom where the smaller stream unites, Kver creepin further, further, ez each grain uv sand alights. An I laugh ez I remember how our toes would never stick To the bottom ez we youngsters tried tur wade ercrost the crick ! Frum the bend al)Ove the footbridge I kin hear a boy's " halloo," An 1 know thet Hill Buzze>' is a-comin crickward too ; 40 A DREAM OK I.IZZAKD CRICK An I answer with a warwhoop thet goes ringin down the glen. An in less'n haf a niinnte we are " strippin off " ergen ! •* * * •» « * () the river's way off >en(ler, miles an miles beyend my gaze ; Years hev come an jears hev wandered since them keerless, happy days ; Hut thank Ciod my dreams lie closer, an they crowd my vision thick, While my heart beats warm e/, ever fur the banks uv Li/.zard Crick. DOWN ON THE MILL STREAM. vSome rave about the Pallersades Down on the Hudson river ; An some about Niagara falls Thet make a feller shiver. An some will long tur see the land Where Shakespeare lived an writed. An some the city uv Paree Thet's alius gay an lighted. But ez fur me, jest humly me. Fur years I've sorter wished Thet I could see the ol mill stream Where long ago I fished. An folks will go in extercy About the land u\ flowers, An on the field uv Gettysburg Waste many precious hours : Then come along tur Washington ( I kinder hate tur pen it ) An heng around tur shake the hand Uv president an senate. But ez fur me, jest humly me. 'Twould make me fairly scream Tur shake ergen the hand uv Ben Down b\- the ol mill stream. 42 DOWN ON THE JNIILL STKKA:\I An I would give my hull estate Once more tur go in swimmin Off frum the rocks at alius wuz >Shunned by the gals an wimmin. Ah yes, them places uv repute No doubt hev many pleasures ; Them moozeums an battle grounds ITv antick relic treasures. But ez fur me, jest humly me. I hev but one life dream ; An thet's tur spen a week with hen Down on the ol mill stream. LABOR TO CAPITAL. M>- heart is sick and my soul is sick Of the shameful greed of men ; Of the endless crush and the headlong rush That stifles this world of ken. O, the heedless strife and the needless strife Which blackens the skies that be ; It is all for gain that we suffer pain, And it cripples both you and me. I'm sick of the rich man's avarice. Of his daily poorhouse dread ; I'm sick of the strife that haunts the life Of the soul who toils for bread. The poor man's snarl and the rich mans sneer Go ringing from sea to sea : And the discord jars from the earth to stars, And it rankles both you and me. I'm sick of the sight and sound of trade. 'Tis nothing but Crodless schemes : And the fool who dreams of his honest schemes Is a dreamer of Godless dreams. But there is a way, if we only would. To lighten the burdens that be : To sweeten the life and kill this strife. And it rests with both vou and me. BILLY HUZZEY. Yew all know Billy Buzzey cuz yew see him every- where. Jest look out on the corner an yew're sure tur find him there ; Look up or do\\n the river, or in any hidin j^lace An \ ew'U find Billy Buzzey there with freckles on his face. They ain't a blessed thing in town at Billy doesn know. They ain't a blessed danger place at Billy wouldn go : Fact Billy he's a wonder, jest a bottom dollar brick. The same ez my ol Billy on the banks uv Lizzard Crick. Billy Buzze_\ . Billy Buzzey, I am writin this tur yew : Billy Buzzey. Billy Buzzey. Dear ol Billy tried an true ! Years may come an years may wander. We're ai:)art an older grown : But I'll love yew Billy Buzzey. Jest ez long ez love is known. u Bii.i.v lu'zzEV 45 O the days with Billy Buzzey, wen so carefully we stole To the bridge behind the sawmill an unwound our fishin pole ; How cautiously we flattened on the warped an twisted plank Tur see ef any shiners wuz a hidin neath the bank. Billy Buzzey he could ketch em wen no other feller could, He could track a coon or otter threw the thickest uv the wood ; He could climb the highest tree top. he would never take a stump, An they warn't no secli a fighter in the hull nv Ciun- gawamp ! Billy Buzzey, liilly Buzzey, I am writin this tur yew ; l^illy Buzzey, Billy Buzzey, Dear ol Billy good an true. Years may come an years may wander. An we kennot stop their flow, But I'll love yew, Billy Buzzey, Long ez love is mine tur know. SING A SONCx. Sing a song nv Hope, sir, Ef yew are bound tur sing A million ears are list'nin Tur hear its cheery ring. A .song uv praise is precious, A song uv truth is blest : A song uv love is pretty, A song nv Hope is />t'st. Sing a song uv Hope, sir. An sing it with a zest ; A million souls are weary, A-waitin fur its rest. A song uv praise is welcome, Tur toller care an strife : A song uv joy is restful, A song u\- Hope is ///<'. THE SUMMKR I'lUU.IX. I like the suininer leelin with its ha/,>-. lazy air. An its soft an dro\vs>- whisper threw the trees : 1 like its nieller music which is risin everywhere, Kruni the waterfalls an thrushes an the drone uv l)usy bees. () I like the summer feelin with itsdrows\- monotone. I'v toads an bugs an locusts, an the crickets' inter- lude : I like tur lie an listen with the branches o'er me thrown Where the brooklet meets the river an the medder meets the wood. Yes. I like the summer feelin cu/. it fills my huno:ry soul With a glow u\- healthy ha]i]>eruess thet nuthin else kin do ; An I look up threw the 1)ranches where the great white cloudlets roll. An I feel myself a-driftin off tur worlds beyend the 1)lue. With the windin Crick l)eside me. an the restful skies above. An a tangled mess nv mosses l\in "neath me for a bed : 47 4^ THK Sr.M.MKK KKKLIX An a splash uv suninier feelin fniin the green-clad hills I love. An a strain uv Xatur's music runnin \vildl\- threw my head. Do yew know the summer feelin? If yew don't then steal away Where the medder meets the woodlan an the ]:)rook- let meets the stream ; Let yewr heart beat tur the music, let yewr loosened fancies play, An loaf an loiter by the Crick, an dream an dream an dream. MV OL' DAD. There wuz a time once when I had More common sense en my ol dad. An yuster tell him what wnz what Wen he a leetle contry got : An wen he tried tur kick up sin I hed hard work tur hoi him in. The hardes trials them daj's I had Wuz in the managemunt uv dad. But mother warnt so hard tur hoi ; S/ii- alius done ez she wuz tol An never tliotight uv sayin no. Wen I tol her, "dew so an so." S/ie realized jest what I wuz, Ez wise ol mothers alius does. An kep herself frum day tur da_\', Eccordin tew my better way. But dad he warnt so bright ez ma. An we wuz alius in a jar : Tell one day in the onion bed. He disobeyed some things I said, Wich shocked my dignertw an riled My sense uv jestice tell she l)iled. An so I sa\s, " It's jest erbout Time now we hed this l)izniz out." 50 M\ OI. DAI) Wall, there aint very much tur tell. Twuz sevral days fore I got well ; An ma hed tew reseat my pants. Wen dad hed finished off his dance. An now, ef I remember right, I changed my min somewhat thet night An ever sence thet summer's day. I've let mv daddv hev his wav. NOT A CANDIDATE. I ain't no kind uv cannerdate lur office here this Fall ; I'm out uv politics an sich, an out fur good an all. It hain't no use a-coaxiu nve, I won't put down my name ; I ain't a-hankerin jest now fur town or county fame. I've lied my full uv politics, I know the hull durn thing. An Gungawamp will hev tur run without me in the ring. A man thet tens tur bi/.zerniz. an keeps his larmin straight, Ain't got no time fur politics, an I'm no cannerdate. No, no ! tut ! tut ! Yew unnerstan I've given yew my word : Yew fellers air the mos persistin chaps I ever heard. Why durn my Ijoots ! ef yew heng on I'll be a gettin riled. An wen I git my back up, boys. I aint no peaceful child. I've run fur .slectman forty times, an twenty times fur clerk. An every time some fellerd l>olt — my ticket wouldn work. I've jest concluded this ere Fall tur shun yewr temptin bait ; I dont want none uv politics an I'm no cannerdate. 51 52 NOT A CAN 1)1 1) A TK O, >aas I \ ewr proiiierses er good, \e\vr argyiiiunts er fine : I'll "sweep the county " an I'll bring the " doubtful" inter line. A hundred cash will dew it all — \ew think I'm ]nirty green ; Yew are the nios persistin chaps thet I hev ever seen. Now look\- here. I tol yew oncc^. I'm gittin purty mad ; Altho el I ^vv//-/ sweep the town it wouldn be so bad. Why durn my boots ! I blieve I kin : I'll try at any rate ; liring u]) some cider, Mar>- Ann. fur I'm er canner- date 1 PICK'RKL IX WINTER. I know where spreads a sih ry stream, A stretch uv pure delight ; Between two lines uv ghostly hills, Now frosty, cold an white. I see long miles uv glistnin snow. I hear the forest wail ; I hear the rumble uv the ice Which thunders down the vale. Mayhap yew think its lonely there, An wouldn keer tur go Where lies a foot or two uv ice, An two or more uv snow, lif thet is how > ew feel, my friend. In town so snug an nice, I guess yew never yit hev pulled A pick'rel threw the ice. MARY ANN. We lived turgether on the fann, my parents. Dan an nie. An we wnz happy an content ez any folks could be : Tell mother, bless her weary eyes, who wnzznt over stout, Grew sort o' weak an all run down, an needed helpin out. vSo wen Bill vSmith. the drunkard, died, a wuthless sort uv man. We tuk his little orphan gal whose name wnz Mary Ann. A sweet-faced child ez ever wu/,, we loved her. Dan an me. An uster ask her. boyish like, whose gal she wu/, tur be. An she would look frum me tur Dan an en frum Dan tur me. Her lustrous eyes a-pleadin like yit full uv witchery. An sa>' with voice raal low an sweet, (tur still a pet- ty fuss. ) At wen she growed up big enough she'd hev the both uv us ! The years sped on. yit neither gained the so called inside track : M A R \' A X X :)0 Weiiever Dan dniwed her tur sclujol I alius drawed her back. An cla_\" by day her face wore signs iiv sweet per- plexity : Becuz she didn keer fur Dan no uioren she did fur nie. vShe uster tell us uv a love, a love we never knew. An said at all would share alike if they wuz good an true : But all the love I keerd about wuz thet uv Mary Ann, But she, she didn keer fur nie no nioren she did fur Dan. Then Mary Ann grew beautiful, how beautiful wuz she! Her step, her smile, herevry act wuz grace an purit\- : An each wuz longin fur the lime wen he would be a man. An Dan he sorter scowled at me an I scowled back at Dan. Then (), the change at come to us, it's burned into my brain. An all the power uv Heaven an arth kin ne'er remove the pain : Our Mary Ann tuk strangely sick, an one bright April day W'e laid her vender on the hill then turned our steps away. An wen we come in sight uv home Dan ]ieared tur feel so bad At I. tho shameful ez it wuz, got sorter riled an mad. A" gritted threw m\- tight sliet teeth, with rage an jealous\ : 56 MAKY ANN " Yew needn feel so tarnal l)ad. she thouj^ht llie most uv »it' y Hut Dan he never said one word, an many weeks went by, An en we noticed paler cheeks an dim-like i^rew his eye ; An wen he lay in l)ed one night I stole \\\) to his side An ast lurgiveness arter wliicli we both shnk hans an cried. An there within Ihet darkned room I knelt h\ him tur pray. An ast thet frum m}- youthful heart all sin be washed away ; An l)v his bedside on my knees a newer faith began ; The faith which alius seemed a part uv sweet-faced Mary Ann. An wen Dan died one winter's night I sorter wished twuz me, Becuz I knew at he would go beyend the Jasper Sea. An there would find sweet Mary Ann in angel robes uv white. Who'd welcome him with suiniy smiles an ol time love an light. Ah, tliet wuz many years ago ; an \it it seems ez clear Ez tho it wuz but yisterday I saw em standi n here. But wether she wuz his or mine /'ve sworn tur l)e a man. An I would love em were they here, both Dan an Marv Ann. FISHIX" BY AX" nV. The earth is growin greener. An the air is gittin cleaner. They's a sort uv happy twinkle in the dinijiles uv the sky ; Evrybody's steppin lightly, Evry eye is shinin brightly, Cuz we're all a-goin fishin In an hy. Down the hrook the birds er singin. On the hills the cow bells riiigin. In the fiel's the jilows er cnttin threw the sod so bare an dry ; In the house the women's churnin. At the school the boys er learnin. An evr\ bodx's happ\- tor the fishin by an 1)>-. Fishin In- an b\ . With an angle worm an fly ; We are much obleeged tur natur. She's a bloomin sweet pertater. Cuz she let's us o;o a-fishin b\- an 1)\-. WITH MABEL, NITTIXC;. In the golden antnnni snnsliine. With a joyons step and tread. Do I go with Mabel nutting, Where the chestnut branches spread. Mabel laughs and Mabel frolics, Mabel singeth like a dove ; Mabel doesn't fill her basket. But she fills my heart with love. Nuts are brown and plenty, Skies are pure and white ; But Mabel is the picture That captivates nie quite. Through the woods I stroll with Mabel, To the winding homeward lane ; With the promise in my bosom That I've tried so long to gain. Mabel laughs and Mabel frolics, Mabel rompeth and is coy ; Mabel hasn't filled her basket. But she's filled my heart with joy. Nuts are brown and plenty, Skies are pure and white : But Mabel is the picture That captivates me quite. ."•.8 THE BIMEBY TIME. Wen the Bimeby Time conies roun this way Wen the Bimeby Time comes roun ; There'll be less work an lots more play, There'll be less hours an lots more pay, An common men will hev more say. Wen the Bimeby Time conies roun. Wen the Bimeby Time conies roun ; O I long tur hear the soun ; So I'm sittin an a-mopin, An a-gropin an a-hopin, Tell the Bimeby Time conies roun. Wen the Bimeby Time once gits in view, Wen the Bimeby Time gits roun ; We'll hev free trade an tariff tew, Hard times won't trouble me nur yew. An Sunday'll las the hull week threw, Wen the Bimeby Time conies roun. Wen the Bimeby Time conies roun, O I long tur hear the soun ; So I'm sittin an a-mopin, An a-gropin an a hopin. Tell the Bimebv Time conies roun. DAD'S OL GRINDSTONE. Under a spreadin russet bough, Uncared for an alone. Threw summer's sun an winter's snow Hez stood dad's ol grindstone. An I in fancy see it now Ahnos with weeds o'ergrown. How well I recollect each morn Thet dad would call tur me. At break uv day tur come an turn The stone beneath the tree. An every whirl she 'ud squeak an groan. An much exerted be. My hands would blister, peel an tear. But I made ne'er a face : Twuz better tur be blistered there Then on some other place. So while the lark-songs filled the air The grindin went apace. I steal frum town life oft in ruth An look the old scenes threw : An though it sounds a bit uncouth I find these words come true ; " The work I dreaded so in youth, I now would gladly do." GO dad's Oh GRINDSTONE 6l I'm turnin now the stone uv life, A-grindin fortune's blade ; With nicks an cracks extreniel}- rife An ruther poorly made. An oft the stone squeaks in the strife Like dad's beneath the shade. SMILES AND TEARS. I've seen the summer's sun aflame, While weeping were the changeful skies I've seen a woman smile the same, While pearly tears shone in her eyes. And both brought visions unto me, And l)oth were beautiful to see. THE TIMES THAT USED TO BE. " r m always thinkiti, think in, irr the times that uscit to be. Where the springs and golden antumns flushed the friendly fields of Lee : An as I look baek yonder, on them fur off plains an skies, IV/e snn may be a-shinin, but it's lainin roun my eyes l'" — Frank L. Stnntoii in " Soiifis of Tlif Soil.'' I, too, am alius thinkin uv the days uv long ago ; I cannot seem to help it sence they crowd my vision so. A-thinkin, thinkin, thinkin while the golden moments flee, Uv the days uv happy childhood, an the times that used to be. They's people alius thinkin uv the pleasures yet to come ; I'll admit anticipation occeypies my leisure some, But furever Fm a-thinkin uv the days that uster be. Uv the days down in the country where the atmos- phere is free. THE TIMKS THAT I'SED TO BE 63 Uv the singin brooks an iiiedders, broken teiices. tumbled walls, Vv the sunshine thro' the branches an the splashin waterfalls ; Uv the cave off in the mountains, playin " Huckle- berry Finn," An the Injun huts an wigwams, an the battles we wuz in. There wuz " Theerdore's brook " in summer where we learned to swim, by jo I Don't you remember, Arth' an Alvin ? Bet you can't furgit it ; no. An the sawmill with the kerriage where we uster set an ride : The mill-pond where the shiners much preferred to stay inside ! The raftin thire on Cowdrey's, an the ships we sent afloat, An the argerments presented on who owned the tastes boat. O, life wuz worth the livin but we didn't know it then : It is only that we .see it when we're sad an busy men . But it makes life all the sweeter, an it brings a rest to me To look away off yender on the days that uster be. O, the days that u.ster be. boys, thank God fur everv one ! 64 THK TIMES THAT VSKD TO HE I wouldn't swap my memories fur all that's 'neath the sun. An you boys in the countryside jest fill your souls with it ; Jest sozzle in the sunshine an preserve it every bit. Then when you've grown to busy men, you'll hev, the same as me, A golden store uv memories, ' ' the davs that uster be." 'TJ^ifi^ PICKRELIN ON LIZZARI) CRICK. Yew take it in the inorniii wen the sun is cloudetl in. Wen fruni off the water's risin jest a steamy vapor thin. An push yewr boat erniongst the pads where lillies nod at 3'ew, Ats wen the pickrel take a bait an take it spiteful, tew. They aint no fishin equal tew it an}- place j-ew go : A limber pole, a cotton line, a swish, a heave an tow. Yew jerk yewr bait erlong the aige an purty .soou yewll see A sudden swirl, a silvr\- gleam, a tuggin enermy. An then yew pull with all yewr might, with knees an elbows stiff. An out will come a pickerel a-headin fur the skiff. Ive fished fur many kinds uv fish in brook an lake an sea. But pickrel fishin on the Crick is good enough fur me ; They aint no gittin ready, with a lot uv fuss an frills. They aint no scientific talk erbout the fly thet kills ; They aint no stringin up uv gear, uv patent lines an hooks. 66 PICKRELIN ON I.IZZARD CRICK An argermunts fur playin game yew read erbout in books. Its jest a throw ermongst the pads, an slop yewr l)ait erlong, An purty soon yewr line will taut an settle downward strong, An then yew pull with all yewr might, with knees an elbows stiff. An out will shute a pickerel a-headin fur the skiff. They aint no fishin equal tew it any place yew go : A long cane pole, a cotton line, a swish, a heave an tow. Its mewsic tur my fishin ear tur hear it swish an spat Upon the surface uv the Crick fust thisaway an that. I'd ruther stan thire in the boat an swing a limber pole Then be the leader uv a band, I would upon my soul I I'd ruther feel the tuggin uv a pickrel on my line Then hoi a pair uv bosses uv the lates bob design. Yaas f/r, give me a pickerel fur good, excitin fun. An Lizzard Crick fur liackgroun an my happerness is won ! NATURE'S INSTRUMENT. The brook which rambles on its way And whirls beneath the old brush fence, Makes music in my ear today, As one of Nature's instruments. I seem to hear it dash along. Impatient at the hindering stones ; Then leaping gaily in its song Of mingled joy and monotones. Oft when a boy if aught I had A passing sense of worldly pain. The cadence of that brook-song glad Restored my happy self again. Today, above the irksome round, To which this noisy world gives vent. I hear a sweet, relieving sound, The strain of Nature's instrument. CHILDHOOD POEMS A GOOD-NIGHT SONG. I. Mother croons a good-night song. Close your eyes m\' dearie ; Fairies round a wee one throng. Close your eyes ni\- dearie. Close your eyes while mother sings. Hear the dip of fairy wings, Night a peaceful slumber brings. Close your eyes my dearie. Close your eyes, Little dear ; In the skies Stars appear. Thro' the light Shadows creep ; Dear, good-night, Go to sleep. II. Bylo-land in slumber lies, Close your eyes my dearie ; Angels watch you from the skies. Close your eyes my dearie. 70 A C'rOOD-XUiHT SONG 71 vSluniber while the night wind sigh^ Shunber ere the twilight flies. Dream of love and lullabies, (-"lose your e\es my dearie. Close your eyes. Little dear ; In the skies Stars shine clear. Fades the light. Shadows creep ; Dear good-night, CjO to sleep. POPPERTVS CtIRL Popperty's g^irl has eyes of l;)r()\vn. And her cheeks are round and pink : Her hair is brown. And as soft as down. And curly as you can think. Popperty's girl can talk, ah \es. She talks from morning till night ; And so good is she She climl)s to my knee And offers to hel]) me write. Thus she steals my time day after day. For popperty never could send her away It's popperty this and i)oi)perty that. And " popperty peet-a-boo ; " And "popperty /n-n\" And " pop])erty ih-ttr." And " popperty boo- woo- woo ! i>()1'I'i:ktv s giki. And then I toss lier high in the air. Aiul give her a gentle whirl ; And she laughs and crows. And pulls at my nose. P"or she is ])opperty's girl ! HER OLD RUBBER DOLE. The Rulil^er Doll whistles, the Rubber Doll squeaks, The Rubber Doll listens and mutters and speaks ; It jumps and it tumbles and oft has a fall, But nothing can equal her old Rubber Doll. A hundred times a day our little one kisses it. A hundred times a day our little one misses it, A hundred times a day she makes it squall ; Then she catches it and blesses it. And smooths it and caresses it. And talks very knowing to her old Rul)ber Doll. The Rubber Doll scolds and the Rubber Doll squawks. The Rubber Doll whimpers and grumbles and talks ; It moans and it cries with a pitiful call. But baby just worships her old Rubber Doll. A hundred times a day our little one sighs for it, A hundred times a day our little one cries for it, A hundred times a day she lets it fall ; Then she catches it and snugs it up. And drowsil)^ she hugs it up, And drops off to slumber with her old Rubber Doll. 74 A KRAVH LITTLE SOLDIER. I've just been reading history, a])out the good old days, About our soldiers fighting, and the Injun's wicked ways ; About the British and the Yanks who fought at Bunker Hill. And how the North and South stood ground as only sdA/u'/s will. I tell you men were mighty brave and mighty daring then. And I just wish 'at I were big as all the other men : I'd like to fight 'itli guns and swords, and be a soldier too ; Right in thickest of the fight — hurrah ! now wouldn't What's 'at you say ? I didn't hear; oh, yes, I did forget To shut the chickens up, mamma, but I will do it yet. Dear suz, it's dark, my I what was 'at? It gave me such a fright ! I can't — boo hoo — shut up the h-hens, 'less someone holds a light ! THE ACTOR'S CHILD. The brilliant streets were full of folk, All hastening up and down ; And everywhere was life and light, Within the noisy town. And some were laughing on their wa\- And some were silent, sad ; And some were good and noble folk, And some maj'hap were bad. But ever, ever on the move. The great throng hurried by : Each one upon some mission bent, None caring where or why. But in one lately joyous home. Behind dark walls and still : I'pon a dainty bed of white. An actor's child lay ill. All day the anxious mother watched, The hand of death to stay : The father, but one hour before, Rushed from the matinee. And now the clock had .spoken six, The doctor shook his head ; " An hour, or two, not more than four. And that was all he .said. THK ACTOK S CHILD Seven drew near, the actor's brain, It seemed, would drive him wild ; He knew his might}- call to go. But could not leave his child. The parents' hands were clasped in love. But neither moved nor spoke : And when the timepiece chimed again, The little one awoke. vShe half arose and looked around — A heavenly face had she ; And something seemed to whisper that She neared eternity. " Papa," she said, " it's seven o'clock, I counted every chime ; It's very late, why don't you go ? You won't — be — there — in — time." " My child I cannot go to-night. My little one is ill ; I could not leave you, dearest girl. Now keep you very still." " Not go to-night? O, dear papa, You shan't stay here with me: You must go out, and make them laugh. Why —don ' t — why can ' t — you — see, " The people would feel awful bad, Christmas would be so dear ; What would so many people do Without you. papa dear ? THE actor's CHILI) Xow go ; please go ; my God is good, He doesn't need yon here ; He's telling me to have you go. Please — go —now. papa — dear. ' ' One moment more 'twould be too late. The darling slept once more ; The actor, true to art and love. In sorrow paced the floor. " O, God ! " he cried, in silent plea. " Give unto me thine ear ; Where lies my duty, guiding one. O, be it there, or here ! " The loving wife stole to his side, And. pointing, he knew where. She whispered, like a guiding voice. " Your duty lieth there. Go ; go my husband, do her will. She's in our Father's care ; " And almost reeling to her side. He kissed the golden hair. " O, (rod ! forgive me, should she die, And I be far away ; " And out he rushed, a burdened man, To play the light and gay. And folk were pleased with him that night, ■' A brilliant star," they said : But every call stabbed deep his heart. And none knew how it bled. Til}'; ACTOK S CHII.l) 79 The curtain tell, in costume bold, He ran into the street. And hailed a cabman, whom he knew. And home was driven fleet. And when he saw the mother's face. He knew his flower was dead ; " But God was good." tlie mother smiled, " vShe woke no more," she said. WftR POEMS 1898—1899. .■ ■"■•^■irttj.^ V --/- '■ -^■■-i-;^^!y.»raiM,ijar..w-^"i '.-^nntSmttktlk SINKING THK MERRIMAC. (Santiago Harbor June ,^, iSy8.) Into the night she steamed away, While an awful silence fell : Straight lor the monsters dark and grin Glutted with shot and shell. Sombre and swift and silent. Scarcely a whispered breath ; ( )n. on towards Santiago, On to success or — death. Grim headlands rose in the distance, Old Morro guarding the l)a\ ; Waiting with limbered Hontorias, Waiting for a hated ]>rey. They sleep ! 'I'heu apast the entrance Leaving a tell-tale track. Into the sharp curved channel Swept the bold Merrimac. »^4 SINKIXC'r THK MKKKI^rAC " What's that ? The enemy's picket ? A launch — the_\- see us — 'tis bad I A shot — three pounder — they're fig^hting, (rod, is the tiny thing mad?" Tlien a Hglit flashed over the darkness. The enemy sprang to their arms : The fleet and the forts awakened, The night was rent with alarms. Tliey tried to swing her crosswise. Her helm she would not obey ; For the nosing, pursuing picket Had shot her rudder away I Shot and shell from the fleet at anchor. Shot and shell from shore and sliore ; Torpedoes and mines upheaving, A deafening, hellish roar; A storm of iron hail shrieking. Closer the missies fell : (lUns flashed, and the darkness oi)ened Like gaps in a roaring hell Till it seemed as if ship and heroes Must l)e ground beneath the tide. Uut the Ciod of War directed. And the angr\- shots flew wide. siNKiNc; THic mi-;krimac l<"earles.sly they worked and quickly, Teeth set and l)ra\-e to a man ; " On deck ! " rang the clear, sharp order. ' ' Cut loose the catamaran ! ' ' And then the gallant commander, WMien all was well with his crew. Accomplished in one hurried moment What the enemy failed to do. He touched the explosives, and .straightway With a hot, .spasmodic breath, The Merrimac heaved in the middle And sank to her glorious death. A cheer went up from the Spaniards, And the firing died away ; And they found eight floating heroes On a raft at break of day. Not a soul was harmed among them, P'or the Ciod of War had planned, Antl the Prince of the vSpanish na\'y Bore them in safety to land. (ireat deeds ha\ e been tlone in battle, Of valor there is no lack : Hut none have been greater, braver, Than the dash of the Merrimac. '• RKMKMKER THE MAIXK." When wavering o'er \our nation's jMMde. When moments of peace steal in : When lear and courage run side hv side At the thought of battle's din. RcnicmhtT t/tc Miiiiir .' When reading sweet messages of ])eace. When slumber falleth at night : When doubt and fears by day increase. When asking your (iod for light. Roni'uibcr the A/dhu- .' When sighting across a bar of steel At devils who pose as men. List to our dead sailors' mute appeal. Remember. () comrades, then. Rrnieinbcr f//r Maine .' THI' (UNC^AWAMP WAR PROPHKT. He sot eroim the* \-illao^e store all threw the recent war. Explainin tew the other chaj^s what this an that wn/. lor: An ev'r\- time a move wuz made upon the Ian or sea. Resultin in our victory, "I tol yew so." said he. E/ early ez the Maine went down, he knew 'twu/. goin tur be : "I tol yew they would do it. hoys. I tf)l yew so." said he. An wen George I)ewe\ sunk the fleet uv Adm'ral Montejo, " I tol yew he could do it. boys, yew know I tol yew so." An wen Cevera's loafin ]dace wuz I'oun with skill an care. Jim Martin tol us ev'ry one he knowed thet he wuz there ; An wen the Merrimac wuz sunk beneath the rest- less tide. Jim Martin smoked his pipe an lowed 'twuz what he proffersied. Cevera's dash, an Sampson's chase, an Santiago's fall. An Miles's gran rece])tion. an the welcome protocol. NS Tine (ilXC.AWA.Ml' WAK I'K()IMn:T W'uz all foreseen by Jim, altho he kep the facts away, I'ntil he'd read the papers fruiii the city ev'ry day. An Gungawanip no prophet hed one hat ez great ez Jim, Who lowed the board nv strategy should be nv souls like him ; He knew the ropes Irum stem tur stern, an ev'ry day would pose In Jones's store an emiersize his mighl\' " tol \"ew SOS." But while the war wuz goin on Jim's knowledge took a slump, ( )n matters uv importance takin place in (iungawamp; An wen wuz twins at Hiram Lord's, Jim wuz a sight tur see ; An ev'ry one haw-hawed an sa\"s, "we tol' \fcw so, " savs we. A LATH VOLINTI-J-R. I'ln ^oing to \-olunleer, tlial's all, I am. 'Tis not iii\- iiol)le country's call, Not vSaiu. Poor Will went to the Phili])int'S, And fell : A \acanc\- at home that means — Ah, well! He lelt a maiden fair — poor Will- Sweet Cirace : I'm going to volunteer to fill Will's place I voi;rxTi{i:R jim. Yew see thet field iiv wavin corn, an thet l)ig patch 11 V wheat ? Yew see them orcliards hengin lull ii\- fruit l)otli ri]ie an sweet ? Yew see my garden loaded down with squashes, peas an beans. An see thet henyard lull uv fowls, with e.s^i^s behin the .scenes ? Yew see a hundred head uv slock, them pigs now lat tur kill. An see five hundred fatted sheej) off grazin on tlie hill ? Yew see our pantry })rimmin o'er with goodies sweet an rare. An signs uv farm prosperity, an plent\- everywhere ? Ah, yes, it's ben a wondrous \ ear, the like we never knew. No sech a yieldin up uv cr<)])s sinct- 1)ack in eiglUx - two. An wen I think uv this here stuff, an Jim way off down there, It makes me she! m\- fist down hard an curse out my dispair. I tell >ew .sir, tliey's murder there, it makes my anger boil. VOLINTKHK JIM 91 Tur think the>- starved my only boy off thereon Cnl)an soil ! The\- starved him, sir at .San J nan, long- sence the battle's cheer. An I grow sick tur think uv it, while we hed plenty here. A-plenty here at home, sir, an Jim a-starvin there ; It makes me shet my fi.st down hard, an curse out mv dispair. Someone's tur blame fur thet black crime, an nia\ the good Lord lead Him frum the wrath uv my right arm which burns tur squar thet deed ! Jim left the farm an jinetl the ranks a brave xoung volunteer ; Wuz in the charge at San Juan, an wu/.zt't hurt I hear, But sickness took him down, an then he lay witlnnit no care, An couldn't eat his rations an he died a-wantin there. It's hard tur die in sech a way — it's easy in a figbt. Wen one is full uv lo\alt\ , an wen his cause is right — But, sir, they's vengeance in my heart — it dri\es me tur dispair, Tur think we hed a-plenty here, an Jim a-starvin there I SOME HARD QUESTIONS. The feller on my knee. Says he, " What is the war about ? What makes they shoot each other down. An' blow up ships an' all get drown' ? Wh)- can't they do without ? " Sa}-s he To me. Tlie feller on my knee. Says he. '■ An' has you got to go ? An' is you goin' to leave mamma An' me, an' march away so far? You'll sorry be, I know," Says he To me. The feller on my knee. Says he, " Will you come back again ? " I put him down, I could not speak, A tear fell on his upturned cheek — " I hate old cruel Spain," Says he To me. KKEP HER vSTEADY, MR. PILOT. Let the traitors whine and sliiver, Let the weakHngs hide their head.s ; Let the cowards knife the victors, If they wish to, in the night ; Let the purple gore of Bo.ston Bite and snarl like quadrupeds, We are with you. Bill M'Kinley, For we know that you are right. Let them turn against the .saviour Of the country's policy. Whom they worshipped like a Master Only back in Ninety Six ; Whom they raised to save the nation From a dire calamit}- — We are with you, Bill M'Kinley, Both in war and politics. O this flimsy human nature When it goes against the grain ; O the blindness of a mortal When he will not see the light : Keep her steady, Mr. Pilot. There is sunshine thro' the rain. We are with you, Bill M'Kinle\-, For we know that vou are risfht. THK BATTLESHIP ORFXtON. vSiug ho ! a song for the Oregon, The warrior of the deep : The great sea-hound who with maddened l)Ound, And a growl at every leap, P>ore down on the fleeing enemy. With a fire that scorched and tore Till the Spanish fleet she had rushed to meet Was smashed against Cuba's shore. .Sing ho I a song for the race she ran. From the far off Western seas : With a whitened jaw, and a hungry ])aw. And a cur.se flung to the breeze. Boast ye of the fourteen thou.sand miles. To avenge her .sister ship ! Boast ye of the shot which thundered hot From her round and blood-red lip. Sing ho ! a song for the cruise she made From the West to Manila Bay ; With never a halt from flaw or fault. And read\- to join the fra\-. Then three times three lor the ()reg()n. The mightiest dog of war I The hope and more of the lives asliore. The pride of the Yankee tar. Books in preparation 36^ tbe Same autbor. MILL BALLADS Poems of Factory Life. PAPER. 25 CENTS. ...These poems a.re descripti-ve of S^C^iv England factory and as peopled hen the hours of labor Tvere from daylight till dark the year round. cN^hv England factory life is one ritten for public print. The ad'ventures of students, mill girls and ^variety actresses should form chapters of interesting and spicy reading. AUG R 1899