PS 1919 
 
 . H28 
 
 Copy 1 R^^^I^H^H^^^^^^-^^H^H^!^^ 
 
 PAGES 
 
 -OF- 
 
 POBTRY. 
 
 / 
 
 By FERDINAND HEISKELL. 
 
 Copyrighted 1886 by Ferdinand Heiskell. 
 
 
 -.'>-i~<>i^-»-,^,-*^,^^^,^^_ 
 
 t. a. NEWMAN It CO. PRINT, 
 
PAGES 
 
 -OF- 
 
 POETRY. 
 
 -BY- 
 
 FERDINAND HEISKELL, 
 
 <:r^iPi'^ ^ 
 
 [all rights reserved.] 
 

Oh ! tell me not of the troul^le 
 
 Of those that are dead and are gone, 
 
 For siirejy, most surely, thrice double 
 Are the cares that I hnve of my own. 
 
 Oh ! tell me not of the morrow 
 
 Or what is then to be done, 
 " Sufficient to each day is its sorrow, 
 
 To man born under the sun." 
 
 Oh ! tell me not of the sorrow 
 
 Of those that are dead and are gone, 
 
 For he's a d d fool that will borrow 
 
 Trouble from some other one. 
 
 Do as best we can, 
 
 Life is hardly to be borne ; 
 But " man's inhumanity to man 
 
 Makes countless thousands mourn, 
 
 Speak of the devil and his imps will appear, 
 We were talking of you and behold you are here. 
 
 THE COWARD. 
 
 No heart, no soul, and if I must tell it 
 The gods will witness that he has no melt. 
 He cares about nobody 
 And nobody cares about him. 
 
He is near about nobody 
 And nobody near abont him ; 
 This world to do well ivith him 
 Would do well to do ivithout him. 
 
 TO BACCHUS. 
 
 (Air— Last Rose of Summer.) 
 Miserable Bummer. 
 
 " 'Tis the last rose of summer," 
 
 'Tis the last drop you see ; 
 I'm a miserable bummer, 
 
 Oh ! w^ho will pity me. 
 
 Religion to bay of Biscay, 
 
 And politics be d— m ; 
 I'm singing for my whisky, * 
 
 I'm bumming for my dram. 
 
 Chorus — Hip, hussa, hip hussa, hip, hip hussa. 
 
 I have emptied my last bottle, 
 I have drained out my last cup, 
 
 Oh ! for a drop to just wet my throttle, 
 Say, Johnny, fill them up. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 I have traversed every ocean, 
 
 I have traveled every land 
 For a drink to suit my notion — 
 
 I now hold it in my hand. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
Oh ! some may drink their lager beer, 
 And others take their wine, 
 
 But give me good rye whisky here, 
 I'll take alcohol in mine. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Oft in the stilly night 
 
 Ere slumber's chain hath bound me, 
 I think I feel them bed bugs bight — 
 
 The d d thin2:s are all around me. 
 
 EPITAPH. 
 
 Rest to his soul. 
 
 Peace to his ashes, 
 While the wild waves roil 
 
 And the storm cloud clashes. 
 
 I did not think it right, 
 
 When they drafted me to fight, - 
 But I hoped 'twould all turn out for the best ; 
 
 So before we reached the front, 
 
 The enemy had run. 
 And set all my hopes and fears forever at rest. 
 
 I jumped aboard a railroad car, 
 I was a leettle short of cash, 
 (And I was greatly embarrassed and praying for 
 something to turn up.) 
 
But we had not gone so very far 
 Till e-he busted all to smash 
 (And I felt greatly relieved ) 
 
 I jumped aboard the telegraph, 
 And went it hell to scoot; 
 
 I'll swear I beat a lumber raft 
 And a six ox team to boot. 
 
 TO THE WARD POLITICIAN. 
 
 The way, the way to coch a whale 
 Is to put cMin grano sales on his tail. 
 
 I thought then, 
 
 And now I see, 
 
 I fought my countrymen 
 
 For the harmony, 
 
 The symphony, 
 
 The unity, 
 
 Of unborn billions yet to be. 
 
 Fools will stalk 
 
 Where angels dare not stand, 
 Up boldly walk 
 
 And grab divinity by the hand. 
 
 "There is a divinity that shapes our ends," 
 There is a consanguinity that binds us friends, 
 
A mutual affinity that to life a constant glamour 
 
 lends, 
 A masculo-femininity that so in God's image our 
 
 nature blends, 
 That doth for so many miseries make amends, 
 That it makes this d d world if not pleasant' 
 
 at least endurable. 
 
 What has become of the great Grover's goody, 
 doody, precious promises and pledges? 
 They are " Gone where the Avoodbine twineth," 
 Gone where tlie lost stars shineth, 
 Gone where eternity alone confineth, 
 Gone where the' gods alone divineth, 
 Gone, gone glimmering, gone. 
 
 Air— "Do thoy miss me at home." 
 
 Will you kiss me, sweet one, will you kiss me, 
 Twould be an assurance most dear, 
 Lf you'd stretch out your arms and embrace me 
 And with a loud smack say, yes, sir. 
 
 Love me little, 
 Love me long, 
 Love is brittle 
 When too strong. 
 
 OR, 
 
 Love me strong 
 
If but a minute, 
 
 It may be rong 
 
 But there's millions in it. 
 
 John Anderson, my Jo John, 
 When we were first acquaint 
 
 I thought you were a bully one 
 Bat now I see jou aint. 
 
 "When Willie comes marching home, 
 With bright laurels on his brow," 
 He fought to win them there, 
 He loves to wear them now. 
 
 '' Breathes there a man with soul so dead 
 That never to himself hath said," 
 On my native sod I stand, 
 Thank God for my native land. 
 
 I lived on the wind, 
 
 Existed on air, 
 I simply grinned 
 
 And learned to bear — 
 Wasting the energies of an immortal soul trying 
 
 to borrow fifteen cents in cash. 
 Suffering death a thousand fold negotiating for 
 to-morrow's hash. 
 
9 
 
 A TRUTHFUL MAN. 
 
 With him, yes means yes 
 
 And no means no ; 
 xA.nd when he siiys he has 
 
 'Tis the same as if he'd told you so. 
 Ebenezkr, June 15, 188(). 
 
 Ebbnezer, Oct. 25, 1885. 
 The mills of the gods grind slow, 
 
 But they grind exceedingly small. 
 If this is the distich they can show 
 
 They'd better not grind at all. 
 
 Ebenez'?r, Tenn., Aug. 24, 1886. 
 I have said it oft before, 
 
 And will repeat it yet again, 
 That you may tell it o'er and o'er — 
 
 Bad treatment makes bad men. 
 
 April 11, 1886. 
 Fix as you may. 
 
 Twist as you can, ' 
 Say what you may say, 
 
 'Tis virtue makes the man. 
 
 I have stood where thousands stood, 
 
 And Mars stood wondering at our hardihood. 
 
10 
 
 Let the light of Thy countenance shine 
 Down on me and enlighten mine. 
 
 The reason some men part their hair in the 
 middle is that their heads are so light that a few 
 extra hairs on one side would throw them off their 
 balance. 
 
 We met by chance, we met by chance, we met by 
 
 chance, the usual way. 
 Says I to her, " How are you Nance? 
 How ar U Nance ! how ar U Nance? 
 How ar U Nance?" but she would not sav. 
 
 ROBERT INGERSOLL'S CREED. 
 
 Earth, air or water, 
 
 Heaven, hell or hotter, 
 
 God, man or devil, 
 
 I'm on a level. 
 
 The wild girl of Siberia, 
 
 Or my own brother, 
 
 I ask no inferior, 
 
 Obey no superior, 
 
 In this world or any other. 
 
 Great God of love, 
 
 Look from above 
 
 And bless us in thy mercy. 
 
 If thou would st prove . 
 
 That thou art love, 
 
 If not so vice versa. 
 
— 11 — 
 
 Air— Love Among t)ie Roses. 
 
 I hate to tell but then I must, 
 For in her heart I place my trnst- 
 In her breast my love reposes — 
 I'll marry her or by G — I'll bust 
 Love among the roses. 
 
 Sept. 30, 1887—10 o'clock p. m. 
 
 What shall I eat, 
 
 Bread or meat? 
 
 And oh ! what is best for me? 
 
 What do you think 
 
 I should drink, 
 
 Whisky, milk or tea? 
 
 He's afraid to do right 
 For fear he'll do wrong ; 
 
 Like a wearisome night 
 
 Drags his slow lengths along. 
 
 Oct. 19, 1887. 
 
 Oct. 19, 1887. 
 Of what use 
 Is vile abuse? 
 What good will it do? 
 The hissing goose 
 That you turn loose 
 Will be future food for you. 
 
12 
 
 Feb. 18, 1887. 
 (Written ou a singletree attached to a sled.) 
 
 What T ask is not much, 
 
 But in English, French and Dutch, 
 
 Hebrew, Sanscrit and Syngalee, 
 
 Arabic, Coptic and pure Chinee, 
 
 I wish, I ask, demand, I pra}', 
 
 I desire, implore, command, I say, 
 
 I'm attached to this sled and let me stay. 
 
 Oh ! woo me not, oh ! take me not away, 
 
 At least till our final, our eternal day, 
 
 When I or the sled or both decay, 
 
 Or our honored master hath past away — 
 
 His dust is mingled with mother clay. 
 
 Yes on this sled I've set my heart, 
 
 '' Let us be wed till death do us part." 
 
 Oct. 28, 1887. 
 If distance " do " lend 
 
 Enchantment to the view. 
 Will it not, my friend, 
 
 Do as much for you? 
 
 If distance do lend 
 
 Enchantment to the view, 
 Oh ! most true friend. 
 
 Will it not that much do for you ! 
 
 My friend, my friend. 
 Give the devil his due, 
 
Perhaps in the end 
 He'll favor you. 
 
 Oct. 28, 1887. 
 Other gods shall guide us, 
 Other " nods " betide us, 
 Olher rods shall chide us, 
 Other sods shall hide us. 
 
 The old man went out into his watermellon patch, 
 
 Whence all his mellons had fled, 
 He looked around for his watermellons, 
 
 And saw nothing but rinds instead. 
 Yet beautiful that night he stood, 
 
 As he viewed his ruined farm, 
 He wondered at their hardihood 
 
 And cried aloud alarm : 
 " Run here' Bill, 
 I will kill ; 
 Run, Bill, run. 
 Fetch my gun. 
 Be quick, my son, 
 Run, I say. 
 Do not stay, 
 Till they get away." 
 Bill cried aloud, " Say, father, say. 
 
 If still you ask your gun?" 
 " G— d d— d it, yes," the old man replied. 
 
 And fast those boys rolled on. 
 
14 
 
 Then came a burst as thunder loud, 
 The old man, oh ! where was he? 
 
 Ask but earth that forms his shroud, 
 Or his fraiiments on the sea. 
 
 He now is dead, 
 
 It blowed his head, 
 
 Clear above the sky ; 
 
 It blowed his feet 
 
 Where the angels meet — 
 
 " Farewell, niy lover, good-bye." 
 
 His breast it burst 
 
 And blowed to dust, 
 
 His other parts serene. 
 
 He went caftust 
 
 Like a whirly-gust 
 
 And that are was his 'een. 
 
 Oct. 29, 1887 
 Empty the barn-loft, 
 
 Empty is the mow ; 
 Empty is the horse-traugh, 
 
 Empty is my cow^ 
 
 Come ugly sinner 
 
 On whose breast 
 Ten thousand bugs revolve, 
 
 Come with their bloody stains (when pressed) 
 And make this last resolve : 
 
15- 
 
 I can but perisli if I stay 
 I am resolved to fly, 
 
 For if I do not get away 
 They'll surely suck lue dry. 
 
 ■ Lapsis 
 Slipsis pengue, 
 Lipses slangue. 
 
 Both an eye witness 
 And a hear whatness. 
 
 Oh ! come to my arms 
 
 Thou sweet-smelKng gourd-vine ; 
 When shall thy charms 
 
 Be added to mine. 
 
LIBRftRY OF CONGRESS 
 
 ■H 
 
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