u;iii;ii Class Book. "jj4-: Copightll". 'm COPYRIGHT DEPOSn^ OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER A Scotch, Dutch, Irish Yankee, Born in Pennsylvania January 7, 1859 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS BY OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER >s 1913 ROCK ISLAND, ILLINOIS T5 3^^^ ,^(3 Copyrighted, 1913 BY OLEN WIN FIELD LOOKER //.H^ DEDICATION I dedicate this book to anyone who will pay a penny a page for it. Trusting largely to my wife's relation, for my personal safety, should we ever meet, my own misgiv- ings remind me of the Irishman who was shipwrecked and felt the time had come when he must pray. *'0h Lord, ' ' he said, ' ' if you will help me out this time I will never call on you again. " I am trying to live so that I can respect my own company when alone, pondering over what Billings said, that ''the mule was a verry patient animul — patient because he is ashaimed of himself, ' ' as- suring myself that I will get justice, as the lawyer told his client who appeared much distressed. ''Begorry," said Pat, ''that is just what I am afraid of." Feeling that we understand each other better than I understand myself, I beg to remain your friend and coworker between the handles of the wheelbarrow. Oden Winfield Looker. CONTENTS PAGE Dedication 5 Introduction 9 Not My Home 14 Misplaced Confidence May Be Bliss 17 Will Not Blame Self too Harshly 18 Johnnie Punkin and His Cat 18 Bewitching Eyes 20 Have Pure Thoughts 20 Eosy Shannon 21 All Trouble Imaginary 24 Hope and Health 24 Bound as Habit 's Slave 25 Heaven Here Below 27 Poor Lewis ' Hat 28 Old Man 29 Bible 30 The Letter Ended 30 Jug of Eum 31 Forgive 34 Smokin ' in Bed 35 Not City Bred 37 Little Mildred Allen 38 Proud But Not Vain 39 Dorothy Dick 40 Love 's Storm 41 Someone to Love and Someone to Love Me 42 The Gunner, Uncle Billie Spires 44 The Conclusion 45 The Milkmaid's Charms; or, The Bashful Boy 46 7 8 CONTENTS PAGE Ye Stubborn Glen 48 Pure-Minded Friend 51 So Little Done 51 Trego Lang 52 No Invention to Save the Kich 56 Hope and Love 57 Chinese Proverbs 58 Tune Casey Jones 59 Canary and His Hogs 61 Love and Hope 63 Eespect Yourself 64 Hope and Love 67 The Gasoline Stove for the Kansas Homesteader in 1880 ... 69 My Irish Rose 71 Wit Sharpened with Use 74 As I Heard Sam Jones at Moline, Illinois 76 As I Heard Ingersoll 77 Panama Canal in Three Eoots 79 Matilda Fletcher 81 Ye Plumber 82 Improve 83 As I Eemember Dr. Harvey W. Wiley 85 O. W. Looker, M. D 88 A Fairy Tale of a Little Black Nose 91 Myself 95 Chicago 's Live Model of Art 97 I Adore Thee, Blessed Sleep 98 Harsh Words 98 The Yankee Peddler 's Grandson 99 Dread to Have Mother Know 100 INTRODUCTION SPEAKERS AND SINGERS I HAVE HEARD I never had lived in a large city till I went to Los Angeles. There I could go to the Temple auditorium on a Sunday and hear Burdette preach. He wrote ^'The Religious Brakeman,'' ^^The Rise and Fall of the Mustache/' ^^The Necktie Period, '^ etc. I heard him lecture on ^^The Lost Fort/' which was wonderfully beau- tiful and sublime. I heard Mclntyre at the Methodist Church lec- ture on the Mammoth Cave of Kentucky. His use of language was beautiful. He said when the torches were put out the darkness in the cave was different from a dark night — it seemed to be thick, as if you might cut it with a knife, as though you could reach out and take a handful of it and smear it over your face like soot. I said, **How can we who blunder so ever hope to attain such beautiful use of language T' I went to hear Tetrazzini sing. No bird ever warbled purer, sweeter, higher notes or tones, as it seemed to me. She surely has the heavenly 10 INTRODUCTION spark as she calls it. I heard the wonderful Har- riet Beech Yaw, who thrilled her hearers beyond my power to describe. And Bonsi, the Italian tenor. I also heard McCormack, the Irish tenor. Their quality of voice seemed to me to be much the same. Great volume and power and then it would die away till it seemed you could hear it in the distance and even echo as you have heard echoes in the hills, showing wonderful training and control, till you were led to ask yourself, **Is man an angel T' The papers announced that Harry Lauder was to be at the temple auditorium for two weeks. He had held his high standard in the old country for five years as the greatest Scotch comedian and singer on the vaudeville stage, and it seemed Scotch people thought him as great as Bobbie Burns. He made his own songs and sang them. His houses were packed. I got in the last night and had to stand during his entertainment. Six stories above the stage I heard him in his Scotch dialect sing **I Love a Lassie, '^ ^*We Parted on the Shore,'' *^ She's My Daisy," etc. The rhythm, the enunciation, the personal magnetism, the con- centration of thought, to make others see as you see and feel as you feel, to satisfy the eye, to produce sounds that fall gracefully, and with INTRODUCTION 11 music on the ear, till you almost see the heavenly spark and say with Harry Lauder, *^I'd give all the money I have in the bank, and that ain't very much.'' The papers told us he had been a coal miner. I worked in and around coal mines when a boy and heard the Scotch people talk. I got some of Harry Lauder's songs and it seemed to come natural for me to sing them. When you meet me, make the request, if you like, and I will sing *^I Love a Lassie" as near like Harry Laudter as I can. From a boy music and poetry have charmed me and to be a good talker I con- sider one of the best and greatest accomplish- ments of man. It is to my mind the divine plan for man to improve, to convey to his hearers the very best in his mind and heart, and the ability of some to make themselves heard in a large crowd is marvelous. I heard W. J. Bryan ad- dress a crowd of acres of people in an open field near Rock Island, and we could all hear as well as if in a small building, while the man that introduced him seemed to yell with all his might, yet we heard nothing. It was as if Bryan had wireless communication with every mind present, could send the message out clear and distinct ; the more the receiving instrument is in sympathy or accord with the sender, the better heard. Father 12 INTRODUCTION Matthews, the great temperance apostle, when asked how he got so many as twenty thousand Irishmen to sign the pledge in one day, said, *^The heart has many strings, if you know how to touch them aright they are sure to respond.'' John B. Goff, who made more public lectures than any other man of his time (except Wendell Phillips), said of himself, he never faced an audience but he would rather turn and run the other way, but when he got started, there was a thrilling sensation of delight, then his only object was to make his audience see as he saw, and feel as he felt. Let us go and see and hear each great or near great man or woman on their favorite theme or song. We can get as much from them in one hour as we would get from books in six months ' reading. When a boy I might have heard Henry Ward Beecher, Horace Greeley, John B. Goff, Daniel Webster, called the Lion Man, Stephen A. Douglas, called the ** Little Giant of Chicago," Abraham Lincoln, called the ^^Tall Sycamore of the West,'' Wendell Phillips, called ''The Silver Tongued Orator," and I think over the opportunity that I have had by living in the time when these great minds were active. Singers like Jenny Lind, violinists like Ole Bull, singers like Frank Lombard, of Chi- INTRODUCTION 13 cago, carry you beyond yourself in the realm of harmony, of thought, of Heaven itself. Intellect and the power of speech to convey thought is so highly prized that we seem to forget all else in the presence of it. Is it not the God in man, or as Tetrazzini calls it, ^^the heavenly spark T* See and hear these great speakers and singers as they come around and let them fan this Hea- venly spark in us till it glows into a blaze and warms our whole intellectual and spiritual being till when we say, ^'Our Father Who Art in Heaven, '' we feel His presence and are thrilled and strengthened. Olen Winfield Looker. 14 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS NOT MY HOME IVe wandered o'er the hills, today, That used to give me joy, Wliere almost forty years ago I wandered when a boy. Many of the old trees are gone And younger ones have came, I wandered on and found the one Where I had carved my name. Below my own I carved the name Of Mary, by my side. Who blushed when for pay I claimed a kiss That others were denied. The river is flowing on the same. The banks are just as green; My thoughts go back some forty years And now I seem to dream. 'Tis winter, and we children three Are huddled round the stove. The north winds pierce our little house. But warm is mother's love. OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 15 My sister older asks her why Our father went to war; **For duty, honor, and God's cause. His death, my child, we bear/' Each night at mother's knee we knelt. Our childish prayer we prayed. She told us how that Jesus said '' 'Tis I, be not afraid." At last the long cold winter went. The robins told of spring, We boys roamed out upon the hills Where today I've been. The joy of one long summer day Made us ashamed to own That ever we had grumbled once When winter storms had blown. An awkward, bashful boy I grew. But trying to improve; The schoolhouse where I tried to spell, I also learned to love. Too bashful then to claim my own, I wandered far away, Not knowing time would pale the cheek And turn the hair to gray. 16 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS I^m going far away from here, For this is not my home, For age or death have claimed the ones I hoped would be my own. To see my old time friends of yore To graveyards 1^11 not go. The living with their wrinkled face And hair as white as snow. The roguish eyes of fair Jeanette I remember to this day, But do not care to see her now So wrinkled, old and gray. Then make love's hay while love's sun shines, The memory of one kiss May last a whole lifetime through And fill the world with bliss. To you and her that only felt The rapture of love's song, These heavenly sparks in memory's heart To you and her belong. Then kiss the blushing maiden's cheek. She bids you love today; Wait not for a better time. Lest beauty fades away. OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 17 Too bashful then to claim my own, My boyhood friends have gone, I'll make new friends in other lands, For this is not my home. Regret, remorse and bitter tears Have always played their part, While hope leads on with better cheer And love warms up the heart. Before I go I want to roam The old hills o'er again. And mark the old familiar spots For pleasure or for pain. To watch the river flowing by And hear the birds of song, Then go, for this is not my home, I stayed away too long. MISPLACED CONFIDENCE MAY BE BLISS Perhaps it is well that a young man doesn't know How little he does know. For I know that you know It would discourage him so. 18 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS WILL NOT BLAME SELF TOO HAESHLY I will try to be true to myself, The plans that I have laid out, The bargains I have made Were made in good faith. As time goes on. If I see I have made mistakes, I will settle up the affair In an honorable, business-like manner, Not blaming myself or others. Lay new plans and hope on. And ask God's help to see the right. JOHNNIE PUNKIN AND HIS CAT Johnnie Punkin had a eat. That never lived to catch a rat. The reason was, as Johnnie said. Because his little cat was dead. His auntie said condensed milk that Would kill any little cat. And that Is just what killed the little cat. OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 19 His sister slammed it in the door, Broke both hind legs and one before, And that Is just what killed the little cat, For his auntie said that Would kill any little cat. And after that his auntie stepped and sn^ashed it flat And that Is just what killed the little cat, For his auntie said that that Would kill any little cat. His brother hammered on its head Till from its mouth and nose it bled, And that Is just what killed the little cat. For his auntie said that that would kill any little cat. Johnnie didn't cry, for he was brave. And planted flowers on its grave. With tearful voice and Johnnie said, ^^You know my little cat, it's dead/' 20 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS BEWITCHING EYES In Myrtle's eyes such love liglit shone, I dare not meet them with my own, For reason said in calm repose. Others claim love from eyes like those. Those drooping lids have held the flash, And other hearts have felt the crash And mourned the day they were not wise And dared to look in Myrtle's eyes. HAVE PURE THOUGHTS. Every impure thought stamps itself on every fibre of our being. Therefore, if we would be pure and noble looking men and women, we must have pure and noble thoughts. Let them be turned back and put to confusion who desire my hurt. — Bible. He becometh poor who dealeth with a slack md, bi -Bible. hand, but the hand of the diligent maketh rich. OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 21 ROSY SHANNON A shady lane where roses bloom I walked one Sunday afternoon, With nature humming love's sweet tune, I met sweet Rosy Shannon. Her grace, her beauty, form and size, Love's heavenly spark shone from her eyes, Which to resist would ne'er been wise, I loved sweet Rosy Shannon. The path it followed o'er the green And half way up the hill I seen, 'Mid butterflies, like fairies' queen. There sat sweet Rosy Shannon. Love said, ''There's but one thing to do," I said, ''My love, I'll follow you." And oh! what bliss we lovers knew When I met sweet Rosy Shannon. I sat beside her on the green, We talked about the boats we'd seen, The river with its banks serene, I, close to Rosy Shannon. 22 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS The sun kept sinking in the west, My heart kept pounding in my breast. Such love had never been confessed, As I told Rosy Shannon. Perhaps 'twas wrong, I see it now. My arm got round her waist somehow; I promised honor, made a vow And kissGid sweet Rosy Shannon. She said, *^0h, Mister, would you dare? Just see how you have spoiled my hair!'' Then, blushing, smiled and looked more fair. My angel, Rosy Shannon. The sun went down, 'twas growing late. The dove quit cooing to his mate. The moon came up and bid me wait And love sweet Rosy Shannon. 'Twas well I did, it was the last. The moments flew, the hours passed ; At her home sour eyes were cast At n^y sweet Rosy Shannon. Could I come back, she bid me wait, *'I'll come and tell you at the gate." Hor father owned a large estate. Also sweet Rosy Shannon. OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 23 She said, ''My dear, please listen here, 'Tis neither late nor early, A lover's fate, we stayed too late. My parents, they are surly. One year from this sweet day of bliss, I'll be of age and over, You'll see me up there on the hill, Hunting four-leaved clover. If you'll come to me on the hill No one our love can sever. And if you love me then as now I'll then be yours forever." With one long kiss we lovers knew Her whole soul through her lips I drew. She said, ''Now, love, that means be true. I left sweet Eosy Shannon. No woman since the world began Has ever had a better plan To win and hold the heart of man Than has sweet Rosy Shannon. Here on this cloudy winter day, I'll think of her and tune this lay, I'll build a home and then I'll pray For June and Eosy Shannon. 24 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS ALL TEOUBLE IMAGINAEY The doubts and fears IVe had for years I'll gather all today And pile them up in one big heap And watch them fade away. Then start anew, my dear, with you, Hope for our guiding star. Imaginary troubles gone For that is all they are. We nurse our wrath, we pity self. We make of life a care. When God's sunshine is here for all Cheer up, let's have our share. HOPE AND HEALTH How can I improve my mind. As to be better in my thought, To find some better way to climb. And help some other as I ought? There's only one way I can see, To learn of Him that leadeth me; Lord, give me hope and health, I pray. To last me through another day. OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 25 BOUND AS HABIT'S SLAVE A boat unloading at the dock, The levee paved with granite rock, A smoky city crowded near. An old man standing by the pier. I caught his eye, his look was sad. And that was all the proof I had That he a troubled life had known. For trouble stamped his face her own. I learned his name, his history, too. He gave it me, I'll give it you; He had seen the river high and low. Had watched the boats that come and go. He knew their whistles and their bell, Their captains' names and mates as well; He had helped unload from every craft That handled freight or towed a raft. Away back fifty years or more. When Uncle Sam, with dogs of war. Had landed prisoners at the dock. Unloaded men and took on stock. 26 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS The mules would bray at early morn When men went round to feed them corn. There were marching soldiers everywhere While martial music filled the air. **I then had work both night and day,'* He said, ^'before my hair turned gray. My old wife died, my children gone, And I am left here all alone "To dream the past and mourn the day When old age turned my hair so gray.*' I said, *^01d man, come, leave these docks, These hard paved streets and granite blocks. *^Come out where the green grass grows, Crabapple perfume and the rose. Away from smoke and poisoned air. Of nature's bountiful fruits, come share. **Come, nature calls, for it is May, There's work for all, both young and gray." He told me ^^No," and shook his head, ■ **My dear old wife I loved is dead. ^*My children gone, my hair is gray, I'll watch the boats another day, I'll beg today one hour's work — The captains know I never shirk. OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 27 **I'll eat and sleep as best I can And try to live an honest man.'* I left him standing on that rock, I left him at that steamboat dock. I left him in that city smoke, That poisoned air to breathe and choke. Standing there as habit's slave To only change that for his grave. I left him there, but can we say But habit has us chained today, And we but half our privilege share. In God's great universe so fair. HEAVEN HERE BELOW There's reasons why I would be great, There's reasons why I would be small. But not a reason have I found Why I would ne'er have been at all. To live with hope, to plan and dream. And know pure loves are all they seem; To live above a selfish thought. To help some other as I ought. If this ain't heaven here below. Please tell me why, I do not know. 28 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS POOE LEWIS^ HAT Poor Lewis, poor Lewis, lie has gone with his hat, The very same one on which Aunt Emma sat. Poor Lewis, he said, ^'I am here to declare I did err when I put my plug hat in that chair. ^ ' Then he ran like a turkey and squealed like a rat, ^'Aunt Emma, have mercy, you have sat on my hat.^' Then he pushed up the crown that was mashed down so flat. Poor Lewis, poor Lewis, he has gone with his hat. A plug hat once sat down on never will be An idol of worship for a sinner like me. Poor Lewis, poor Lewis, he has gone with his hat. The very same one on which Aunt Emma sat. *^What does your father do for a living, '^ said one boy to another, ^^I never see him working?'^ *'My father,'^ said the other, ^'is deacon of the Baptist Church, but he doesn't work very hard at it.'' OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 29 OLD MAN I am trying to figure if I can Why of late I'm called "old man/' By just a few careless chaps Who are no judge of age, perhaps. Only a few short years ago I thought that time moved too slow. Would I e'er be twenty-one, Be a man and not called '^Son." But when I think 'tis fifty years That I have lived with hopes and fears, Hope that some day I would be great That I might ow^n a large estate. Hoped that the one I loved was true, But doubts and fears they came and grew. A precious child I loved has died, I bow my head, give up my pride. Give up my dreams of wealth and fame And hope that we may live again; Give up the pride of looking young And try to master thought and tongue. 30 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS To better all and hinder none, Bid selfish thoughts and deeds be gone, To hope along a higher plane Till doubts and fears ne'er come again. BIBLE He becometh poor who dealeth with a slack hand, but the hand of the diligent maketh rich. Let them be turned back and put to confusion who desire my hurt. A man's wisdom maketh his face to shine and the boldness of his countenance shall be changed. THE LETTER ENDED I wish I could see you, I wish I could talk with you ; Writing's a blessing, But I long to walk with you ; Through paths edged with flowers "We would roam on together. We would never grow weary. No, never; no never. OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 31 JUG OF RUM Old Jamie was an Irislimaii, Lived by a mining town, His dear old wife with loads of care Had learned to wear a frown ; For lads and lasses had they nine, All seemed as doomed to work; But Jamie, as his wife declared, Was but a drunken shirk. ''And now, my own dear boys,'' she said, ''All you a warning take. If you do as your father does My poor old heart will break. You know the road is through the swamp. And when he comes from town. He'll stagger off the pike some night And with the frogs go down." All this heard Jamie from the loft, For he was not asleep. He lounged away the whole forenoon. Then down the stairs did creep. With eyes all red, with nerves unstrung. As drunkards only know, 32 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS His jug was empty and lie said, *'To town I am bound to go.'' He joined the miners in the town With many a song and dance. The hour grew late, till all had gone. But Jamie, John and Hans; And then the keeper of the inn Filled well auld Jamie's jug, Then all were ready then to go But for another mug. With that all parted in high glee. Each took his homeward road, But Jamie staggered most of all. His jug was such a load; And soon he neared the timber lot Where John had seen the ghost; He thought of stories Hans had told Of robbers lurking close. The drunken slew bridge he soon came near And crossed it in a fright. Named for old Ben who staggered off And drowned one dark night. He fancied he could hear the splash And same low sound. OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 33 For he and Ben were real old friends That night that he was drowned. And now he neared the dismal pike Through turtles, snakes and bogs, Where Jane had said he would go down To feed the pesky frogs ; He heard them croaking high and low. Each had a different key. He said, ''Dear Jane, if I get home I'll harken unto thee." When first he stepped upon the pike, All stopped as still as death, Which lasted for the first few steps While Jamie held his breath; When one coarse voice the stillness broke Said he, ''A jug of rum,'' When all the others in the swamp Soon echoed, ''Jug of rum." The waters lapped upon the pike, Jamie stood and gazed therein — A million heads were then in sight And one said, "Pull him in." Old Jamie said, "Now for my life!" And fast he tried to run ; 34 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS The little ones said, ^'Pull him in/^ The big ones, **Jug of rnm.'^ When Jamie thought his hour had come He threw to them his jug. When all was still as if each frog Had stopped to fill his mug. He said, *' There, take it, pesky frogs. But only spare my life,^' Took to his heels and soon got home To tell his dear old wife. Auld Jamie lived to tell this tale To grandchildren round his knee. He said, **Now, hark, I hear them yet. It was so plain to me: ^Jug of rum, pull him in, jug of rum.' '' FOEGIVE To find fault is an easy task; There is none perfect, no not one. I wrote this book for those I loved. Forgive me all the wrong IVe done. OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 35 SMOKIN' IN BED There lived a man, his name was Matern, His wife said no fire he built her would burn, You will eat a cold breakfast, your fire went out. He vowed he would build one and clear up the doubt. I admit, as he said, 't was in a queer place, , As he lay in the bed with the pipe in his face, The hot coals rolled out into the hay, Matern he got up before it was day. And his wife put out a terrible scream. With her shirt tail on fire she flew in a dream. Matern was more calm and stayed with his pipe, He sat down to warm and was smokin a snipe. When the neighbors with buckets of water flew in. But the house was burned down e^er they could begin. His wife she came back, but they had not a cent To build them a house, so they lived in a tent. No more would she ask him the fire to light For she thought of the day when she flew in the night. 36 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS Matern lie grew thoughtful; '^McCarthy," he said, ''Be very careful when smoking in bed, *' And don't go to sleep and dream with your pipe, Or into the hay you will be sticking your snipe. ' ' His wife and McCarthy advised him next day, To leave off his smoking when hitting the hay. Said he to McCarthy, ''It is a surprise, You'll live till you die and never get wise. On cold, frosty mornings I am under the quilt. And never get up until the fire is built, "And you up a-shivering and a-shaking away And your wife just a-snoozing, I'd smoke in the hay. Whist, now, McCarthy, you are my friend, I have a bad name and of troubles no end, "My wife is gone days and half of the nights. With the Daughters of Susan to preach women's rights. She says half the men should be kept in jail. And the other half only allowed out on bail, "For the house that she had she had not a care, Which accounts for the ashes you see over there. A house divided against itself never will stand, McCarthy, now pray for me, give me your hand. ' ' OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 37 NOT CITY BRED I wished to excel and make others happy, I had lived on a farm in a small country town, I longed for a life in a big noisy city Among men of wealth and men of renown. I had a few dollars, each day they grew fewer, I knew like things earthly, they would have an end; I looked in the faces of armies of people And in the whole city full saw not a friend. My shingle was out, I would practice my calling, I sat in my office, still never a call. My hopes they run low, I looked at the ceiling And then at the paper that covered the wall. In days gone by I was proud of my learning, I felt the earth tremble when I walked the street ; It was in a small town where everyone knew me. But here with these millions I am nothing com- plete. 38 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS Who are these with such worthy mention? Are they doing things right or doing things wrong? Or are they here, these lords of creation, To scare such as me back where I belong? There must be a pull where wires are fastened. Politic, corporative or down on the rail. It's a long drawn out scheme I will not try to fathom, I'll go back to the country for fear I will fail. LITTLE MILDRED ALLEN There is little Mildred Allen, She ate about a gallon And washed it down with water When she hadn't ought to. Then her little stomach, It began to rumble. And her little stomach, It began to grumble. And this is what it said. (Repeat forty-seven times) OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 39 PEOUD BUT NOT VAIN (To Mrs. Belle Whiteside, of Redfield, Kansas, at her birthday party, 1911) Of a little girl baby a story I'll tell; From a good stock of people they named the girl ^^ Belle.'' With her grandfather she lived on the banks of a stream, The Father of Waters, where lovers did dream. The same old story, as all stories go, Belle had grown older and dreamed of a beau. A model young man as he passed by Saw the fair maiden so blushing and shy. And she saw him, too, with a true woman's art, 'Twas the laugh in her eye that captured his heart. Straightforward and true she has strove for the right, If the battle must come, she would be in the fight. She was proud but not vain, all perfection she seen. As she ruled her own house with the air of a queen ; 40 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS And to the haughty she would give them their share, But she would be loving if they would be fair. The most gentle and loving, most ardent and true, And yet the most stubborn one I ever knew, Eespecting herself, she had respect for us all, To be in her company no one need fall. Her life and her precepts shone plainer than day. There's but one way to do things and that's the right way. A true wife and mother, a neighbor and friend. With patience for erring ones' rights to defend. With hope for the future love sees a star. And the rustle of wings. Belle, will be where you are. DOROTHY DICK (Port Byron, Illinois, 1912) The worst little girl was Dorothy Dick, She could only be managed with a big stick; Her mamma did scold her from morning till night, Still Dorothy did what she knew was not right. Her papa came home and brought a big stick Then the best little girl was Dorothy Dick. OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 41 LOVERS STOEM Like a ship from a stormy ocean Has anchored in the bay, My thoughts and hopes, dear Mary, Have turned to you today. For I am on life's ocean, With all a rhymer's love; Oh, won't you try to love me. For I want you to love? My heart and soul thus anchored. In love's harbor will rest, I'd hold you while you'd nestle Your head upon my breast. I'd pour out all my treasure Of love and golden store. And with your love to guide me, I'd get a million more. Even roads of darkest midnight Your love will light and cheer, If you will only love me And let me call you Dear. 42 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS SOMEONE TO LOVE AND SOME- ONE TO LOVE ME Someone to love and someone to love me, For fifty years has burdened my song, And well I remember when as a school boy. The passion first woke np it surely was strong. On our way from school the ponds had frozen over, We were running and sliding all in high glee. When Mary, a beauty, threw her shawl around me, And we ran together and slid, don't you see? Thus hid from the boys by the shawl of dear Mary, Too bashful to tell her the love that I bore. She woke my young love that perhaps should have slumbered. Since then for a woman love will slumber no more. I would swim o'er the river and dive to the bot- tom. In search of the pearls her neck to entwine. OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 43 I would dig for the gold and set it with diamonds, If loving she 'd promise that she would be mine. 'er land and on seas I would be at her bidding, To be by her side 'round the world would I roam, Or this stormy love she could calm if she wanted. And I'd settle down and build her a home. The perfume of roses and crabapple blossoms, The aromas of nature none could her surpass, We would watch from our home on the banks of the river. The waves rolling in from the boats as they passed. Our children would roam in the shade of our orchard, As pure as the lilies that grow at their feet. Till the shadows of twilight grow thicker and deeper. And their ripples of laughter grow sleepy and sweet. Beneath our own roof we would lie down together. And sleep the sweet sleep of nature's restore. And wake with the morning with someone to love me, And someone to love as in days of yore. 44 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS THE GUNNER, UNCLE BILLIE SPIRES You all know Uncle Billie Spires, He 's a boss that never tires. He 's a whip he loves to cracker, While he's chawin' his terbacker. He's a gun he never fires. Keeps it loaded np for liars. Who talk like a man called Shannon, Said he'd never cocked a cannon. When he'd stood in front of battle. Heard the shells both scream and rattle. Saw the rebels before him flying. Never thought of home or dying. Where they led he'd always f oiler, O 'er the hills and in the holler. There they'd have an awful battle. But he drove them on like cattle, Till they reached the sea, by thunder. All plunged in and went in under. None were left to tell the story. While he walked off with all the glory. OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 45 And still was left to say to Shannon, Old Bob Hunt and Billie Brannon If they would dare to say he^s lying He'd lick them all or die a-trying, To show the world that Billie Spires Has not forgotten his dead sires. THE CONCLUSION I may do wrong When I would do good, Vve made the effort, IVe done what I could. I hope for results For the need is great, I'll continue to hustle While I wait. Why strive so hard to get more when we do not take care of what we have got? Perfection is made up of trifles, but perfec- tion is no trifle. The young man who is afraid of doing more than his salary calls for will never have much salary to call for. 46 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS THE MILKMAID'S CHARMS; OR, THE BASHFUL BOY On a farm when a boy where I worked lived Jeanette, Though years have gone on her sweet face haunts me yet, And the heavenly spark in the love signs she gave Were intended to make my faint boyish heart brave. As she held to my hand as we crossed o'er a stream, She thrilled me with bliss, well she knew love's sweet dream, As we went to the pasture as twilight came on. With Jeanette there to teach me I sooned learned this song. CHOEUS Come, boss, oh-oo, come booo, oh-oo, come boss, oh-oo, o-hoo. Come boss, o-hoo, come boss, o-hoo, come boss, o-hoo, o-hoo. OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 47 As she tripped through the valley where the strawberry grows, Jeanette, I have wandered with thee, She's fair as the lily, as sweet as the rose. On the hills where the big trees their long shadow throw. The turtledove's love song that everyone knows, Jeanette, I have wandered with thee. Love-sick tonight with my hair turning gray. With the snows of the winter I drifted away, I hoped to return when the winter was o'er. Too bashful to tell her the love that I bore. A sweet girlish face and a pure woman's love, Man's guiding star to the haven above. Love can't be stilled that this song will not rouse. When I go to the pasture to call home the cows. CHORUS A stuttering painter told me he tried to sell soap. He knocked at the door and said, **M-m- mad — m, do-do-do-you-you-you-wan to-to-to-to buy- buy-so-so-some so-so-soap? It-is-only-te-te- ten ce-ce-cents, and she slam — slammed the door in my fa-face." 48 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS YE STUBBORN GLEN A strange and stubborn sow had Glen, As all his neighbors say, He pulled her ears to the slop, Her tail to come away. Ye neighbors stand and point with awe, There goes ye stubborn Glen, And marvel at ye stubborn hog, As stubborn as ye men. With wife and children dressed for church. Ye blessed Sabbath morn. Glen blessed the Lord as he drove by The fields of waving corn. The old mare balked, Glen got a club And not a word he said, He hit one lick, get out and walk. The old gray mare was dead. Make me firm in the right, oh Lord, And fervent was his prayer, When all ye people in that church, Knew Glen had killed the mare. OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 49 Ye neighbors stand and point with awe, There goes ye stubborn Glen, And marvel at ye stubborn horse, As stubborn as ye men. In early days out in the west. Ye Glen was hunting deer. He strayed away from the rest, For ye Glen he was queer. As night came on Glen killed a deer. For stubborn was his aim. He led the horse that dragged ye deer, Ye stubborn Glen was game. Ye night grew hideous, for ye v/olves Had scented on Glen's trail. How well they knew Glen was lost. Told by their howling wail. Ye moon came up and looked on Glen Ye wolves they came up, too, And showed their murderous, grinning teeth, And bolder grew a few. They ran ahead and snapped at Glen, The horse and at the deer, Now all were ready for the rush. But Glen he showed no fear. 50 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS The imps of hell seemed to be with That howling, snarling pack, Naught with the stubbornness of Glen Would e'er have kept them back. When morning came Glen found the camp, Ye deer still dragged behind. Glen told the story of ye night, It lay fresh in his mind. Ye neighbors stand and point with awe There goes ye stubborn Glen, And marvel at ye stubborn wolves. As stubborn as ye men. A battle raged right in the road. Where Glen was bound to go, He marched right on mid bullets thick. As ever flew the snow. Glen fell, shot through the lungs as he. Men die with a sore toe. But Glen he lived to tell this tale. He says he ought to know. Men to conquer, though they die. Must have the real backbone. With cotton strings run up their backs, They cannot stand alone. OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 51 Ye neighbors stand and point with awe, There goes ye stubborn Glen, He has no cotton string backbone, A found in things called men. PURE-MINDED FRIEND 'Tis sweet to find One pure of mind With love's true friendship glowing, Love's heavenly spark Dispels the dark, Such friends are well worth knowing. SO LITTLE DONE I seem to do so little, But if I only find A way to keep all envy And mistrust from my mind. Perhaps I then will better See the right to do. And then I hope, my loved one, To do what's right by you. 52 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS TEEGO LANG A love affair caused Trego Lang To let his gnin off with a bang, He said, ''I'll go and join the gang Where every member is sure to hang. ' ' While at his home the women cried, He ate up all the fish they fried, And said, ''Don't you weep for me For I'll go off and on a spree." And at the town he bought some rope, Some strychnine and some other dope; He had a razor in his boot, Likewise a gun he didn't shoot. I'll hang myself or cut my throat, Or butt my brains out like a goat. To him it seemed it would be great, To swim the fish that he had ate. But when he went out on the pier, Like fairy tales the thing runs queer, There was a little Katie Jones, She said, "Trego, how are your bones!' OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 53 He said, ^^Well, Katie, I have three/' She said, ^^Come right along with me, Right to the aviation meet,'' And she kept smiling on him sweet. She said, ^^Oh would you like to Ayr ' He said, ^^I would, I want to die." She said, ^^Well, Trego, you sure are game," And blessed the day she learned his name. ^^Oh, buy one, Trego, I'll buy two," In they got and off they flew. He still was hanging to the rope. The strychnine and the other dope. She said, *' Trego, what does it mean? Such hanging on I've never seen. ^'Well, Katie, while we're in the air, I'll lay the whole blamed story bare." When Trego the story had gone through. They just flew o'er the house of Rew, They dropped the razor and the rope, The strychnine and the other dope. Right at the feet of Sadie Rew They waved their hands and on they flew; In the package was a note, Trego had forgotten he had wrote. 54 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS It told how lie was hanging high, Seen by a man a-passing by, Also how he had cut his throat And how with whiskey he did bloat. Also how he was drowned at sea Like all bad men end on a spree, Just how the sandy bottom felt Where he lay deader than a smelt. Just how it feels to drown at sea. The salty waters filling me, The reason he had took his life, Because she wouldn't be his wife. She read away and held her breath, **He washed ashore and froze to death.'' She said, **0h, mamma, I shall faint. Come, dash some water on my paint." Trego didn't die as some might think. Nor did he take another drink. He just goes out and has a spin And wears the same old-fashioned grin. And thanks the Lord that on that day He met Miss Katie on the way. And when he needs a little cheer He meets Miss Katie on the pier. OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 55 Katie said, **The chance I take To save some men would scare a snake. When I see them with some rope Some strychnine and some other dope, ^'Coming out on the pier. Looking wild and acting queer, I say, ^ There ^s a man to save, He's looking for a watery grave.' *'And when nothing else will do, I wave to the saving crew. Then I just go and jump in, too. And where he's drowning I swim by ''And cry, '0, save me or I die!' He gets to work saving me And just forgets himself you see, I send him home to his ma, ''And tell him not to mind his pa, "For there's as good fish in the sea As e'er were caught like him and me. And if he need a little cheer Just come and meet me on the pier." You would be surprised the men they made. And how glad are the hearts that break, 56 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS And how they live their mothers' pride With wife and babies by her side. Thus ends the tale of Katie Jones, How she saved Trego with his three bones. NO INVENTION TO SAVE THE RICH He died and left his money, And left us wondering why That those that have the money Should ever have to die. There are many hard stories told of How he robbed the poor, The rich that he had cheated. And where he is gone they are sure. Yet rich and poor must die alike When ships go down at sea; Inventive man has found no plan Where rich men may go free. We poor, who think that riches Would bring us all the bliss. Have got to stop and ponder When told a tale like this. OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 57 He died and left his money, And left us wondering why That those who have the money Should ever have to die. HOPE AND LOVE Hope is the sunshine of heaven That shines through the cloud of despair; To be without hope, life's a burden, Too heavy for mortals to bear. Come, let us hope on and hope ever And mingle our hope with our love ; As pure and as sweet as an anthem E 'er sung by the choir above. For since I have known you, my loved one, My love and my hope have run high; And clouds of despair cannot gather While your love and your sunshine are nigh. I never will be so despondent As to forget that once I was loved By the purest and best of all women, Now gone to the heaven above. 58 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS A mother, a sister, a daughter, As pure and as sweet and as true As e'er blessed the life of a loved one; Have such blessings showered on you? May hope flow on like a river That ends in the depths of the sea, And love, just as constant and lasting, I promise, my darling, to thee. For those that have gone I still cherish The hope that we will meet above. While here there is some one to love me. For hope says there is some one to love. CHINESE PROVERBS Regard a youth with respect, for how do we know but his future may be equal to our present, but if he attain the age of forty-five or fifty and has not yet made himself felt, he is not worthy of being regarded with respect. In usual sickness employ the family doctor, but in chronic ailments a new doctor is more helpful. A man who whips his wife is as he who beat- eth a sack of flour — all that is good flies away; what is left is not worth having. OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 59 TUNE CASEY JONES Come, all you farmer lads, and hear How Eddie shoveled oats for the tale runs queer ; They said when the oats came through that spout The man didn't live that could shovel them out. CHORUS Eddie he shoveled and he shoveled, He shoveled, shoveled, shoveled till his shovel got hot; Eddie he got a barrel of water To put the shovel in when the shovel got hot. Eddie's team flew to the bin. Forth and back and back again, They run till their tails cracked round the stack Where they met themselves a-coming back. CHOEUS Eddie threw that oats so high. Some of it stuck up in the sky And didn't come down till they went to bed, When it pattered on the roof like rain, they said. CHORUS 60 FOE MS, SONGS AND YARNS Eddie he just sweat like rain, Forth, and back and back again, The mud in the road got as thick as tar For he sprinkled that road like a sprinkling car. CHOKUS The farmers came from miles around And gathered on that thrashing ground, *^Holy smoke !'^ you heard them cry, *'See the blood in Eddie's eye/' CHOEUS When the farmer crew they came to town They told the story round and round. How Eddie's hat was in the ring, For shoveling oats he had the swing. CHOKUS Eddie said when he got through, *'IVe set the boys a pace or two." He went right home and dressed up neat. He kissed his wdfe and baby sweet. CHORUS OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 61 CANARY AND HIS HOGS Michael Canary, he had a very Queer way of slopping his hogs. He drove them all over His bare field of clover Belabored by three savage dogs. *^0f corn/' said Canary, **I haven't a berry, I'll just have to raise them on whey." When he tried to slop them No devil could stop them From crowdin' and squealin', you say The dogs he set on them, He said, *^Now, doggone them, I'll show them to keep away," And loud he did call them. The hounds they did bawl them. When the troughs he had full of whey. He chased the fields over With two hounds and Rover 62 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS In order to drive the hogs back; He managed to stop them Where he could slop them, But of swearin' Canary 'd no lack. Their backs were like razors But they were good grazers. Canary would grin as he'd say, *^Wife says I'm a sinner. These dom hogs grow thinner And more like a shadder each day.'' ** 'Twixt runnin' and sloppin' They squeal without stoppin'. The hounds snappin' at their thin legs." Canary swore louder. The air smelled of powder. Oh, pity! his wife how she begs. The hounds they did chase him, Eound the field they did race him Till they scared at the slop they had not, Canary looked over His bare field of clover, Said, * * Devil a hog have I got ! ' ' OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 63 He said, ^*I have learned it, Or rather discerned it. As IVe heard the auld people say, They have scared at their shadder And what could be sadder With their squeals, they have all blowed away.'* LOVE AND HOPE Lord of heaven, let me feel the love and hope of long ago, Before I ever knew the pangs of hope undone, of love untrue. I prayed the Lord to guide me on. Though earthly sight of hope be gone, Though dark and dreary grows the way, I'll look to thee, I'll hope and pray. Hope sees a star and love can hear The rustling wings of angels near. All who have hope have felt and heard That ne'er described by pen or word. 64 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS EESPECT YOURSELF Let us try to live so that we can respect our own company. When we are alone it is a terrible thing to have our own conscience condemning us all the time. Eespect yourself and you will have the respect of others. Let us have a congenial atmosphere in our home, in our town, in our country. Be courteous and a gentleman to all whom you meet. A Mr. Whitley, of Bonaparte, Iowa, who was a spiritualist, once said to me, *' Congenial spir- its make congenial minds. Congenial minds make a congenial atmosphere, as though this room were filled with a congenial atmosphere.'^ Then he said that congenial atmosphere is what makes good crops. Spiritualism will be accounted for some day scientifically as a law of mind over mat- ter, but they do not want one in their circle who is not congenial, who opposes them. Mind form controls is superior to matter. Somewhere mind and matter come into rapport. We can imagine the mind stirs the brain, the brain stirs the nerve. OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 65 the nerve stirs the muscle, the muscle moves the bones. I think what I am going to do when I open and shut my hand ; so we will try to follow from the mind to the brain to the nerve, to the muscle, to the bones, to the tips of our fingers. How much it goes beyond that, we do not know, but we feel drawn to some people. We stay with them and talk to them, they do us good. Others repel us; we want to get away as soon as we can. As Hennessey said, ^^They would get along well to- gether if they could be kept apart.'' Let us be one to try to make a pleasant atmos- phere in our home. Love is the fulfillment of the law. Have a lovable, kindly feeling for all. That will have its impression on those you meet and who knows, but it may be felt by your friends and loved ones miles away. ^'A kind answer turneth away wrath, but harsh words stirreth up anger.'' Even a mean thought is felt. The old slave complained to his master that one of the other slaves had called him a black nigger. **Well," said the master, *^are you not a black negro?" **Yes, massah, I know I is, it ain't what he said dat hurt, but the way he said it." ^*Do nothing 66 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS whereby thy brother stumbleth, is offended or made weak/* A public speaker should be able to convey his thoughts as a wireless telegraph sending a mes- sage. Not alone in the sender, but the receiving instrument must be kept in tune or accord with the sender. Some have the ability to get our attention, to make us anxious to hear them. A Swede who got terms confused when asked if he would be a pallbearer, a man had died at the factory at which he worked. ^'Well,'' said the Swede, ^ ' there is a feller who has been in dis country longer than I bin. I ask him; let you know what he said tonight. No, Mr. Johnson, I no like to be a polar bear, I find dos out by my friend, a polar bear sits on the cold ice and watch for fish, and jump in cold ice water, no wonder the poor feller died. I got not very good job, but sometime I had some good job, and I jumped it. I went up to Wisconsin and dug a well one hundred feet high, and never get a cent for, so dot make me been 'fraid to change mine job, and A tank I no like to be a polar bear, not take dot job.- OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 67 HOPE AND LOVE And now I hasten to compare God's love with all my selfish care; I feel that time is slipping by, I wish to live, I dread to die. Why is life not all bliss to me? Because I am not what I would be. The God in man is to improve; The God in man is hope and love. Hope sees a star, but love says ^^Come And share with us a better home," I followed on while love she led Up through the gardens of the dead. There lies those you have known in youth, I felt I knew she told the truth ; A gloom had settled round me there For hope had gone, I saw despair. But love still beckoned me to come, *^ Don't tarry here, we are going home.'' I followed on and then I saw Love, the fulfillment of the law. 68 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS Without love, I could plainly see There was no hope for men like me. Love told of home with mansions grand Hope then came back and took my hand. I'll now trust love through endless day But hope once left me on the way. Two Irishmen, when they came to a town and read on a box car that stood on the track, ^ ^ Cape City, 60,000. '^ She is quite a place. They should have read, ^^ capacity, 60,000." The doctor said to the old darkey, ^^Well, Uncle Ned, I feel it's my duty to tell you you are going to die. If you have anything to say you better be saying it.'' ^'I ain't much to say, doc- tor, but I will say you made mighty short work of it." The old settler at Jewell, Kansas, said my neighbors heard I was going to make a speech here today, and some of them said if I didn't stop in something like reasonable time they would shoot me, and I wouldn't mind being half shot to start with. OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 69 THE GASOLINE STOVE FOR THE KANSAS HOMESTEADER IN 1880 It is years since we came to this fair sunny state, Dear Kansas, I love with advantages so great; Your soil and your climate and pastures are good, But al^s ! on your prairies we are doomed without wood. On the creeks there's but little and so hard to work, Such as Cottonwood and elm from which all men shirk. I have tried to split cottonwood chunks in the month of July Till the temperature of my body showed fever so high, A doctor would have said, ^ ' He cannot recover. ' ' Then my wife would have had pity on me, her dear lover. But wait, I will tell you her lot was the same, Well for me she had not known this when chang- ing her name. 70 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS She would hunt the farm over, pick up every chip, Our children went unpunished for she burnt up the whip; But joy now has come and from here I'll not rove, A blessing has reached us — a gasoline stove. No beauties of nature or art can surpass Our neat little stove generating the gas; For a penny an hour each fire will run, Wash, iron and bake, all neatly done. On a hot summer day when I turn out for noon I find dinner ready, I am never too soon. A smiling little woman meets me at the door. Not het up by the fire as in days of yore. Our baby is not cross nor broken out with the heat. Our home is so pleasant, so cool and so neat, I feel in my heart there is some one needs praise For blessing our lot and gladdening our days. I will first render praise to God up in heaven That men can invent for the faculty given. Then to the inventor and manufacturer, too, And lastly McClung, who will sell one to you. OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 71 MY lEISH ROSE She had promised me to wed, Then said no, and killed me dead; I just pined away till my hair turned gray From grieving. I bethought me she was old, I was just as good as gold Then I did propose to an Irish Rose Of twenty. She accepted, took a ride In the auto by my side; No false teeth you see when she smiled on me. So healthy. I soon found what I had missed When my Irish Rose I had kissed, She just clung to me like a vine, you see. So healthy. Wife and laughing baby boy, Fill our home with love and joy; I have this to say to men turning gray: If healthy 72 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS Marry younger than yourself, Share your talents and your wealth On a baby boy, mamma's pride and joy. If healthy. Keep love's fire burning bright For the one that treats you right, And when she is gray think of your wedding day So happy. But if she has been a flirt, Played coquette and done you dirt, Gets to forty-one know that she is done. Stop grieving. The saddest word of tongue or pen, Whittier said, *^It might have been." He just pined away till his dying day, And left us. Sour flirt and sour dude, Neither baked nor fried nor stewed. But they're good and done when they're forty- one. Not healthy. Please excuse me, I must go, I think I hear the baby crow, OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 73 And wife with sunny haiT waiting for me there And singing, ^' Mammals baby boy, Go to sleep, darling, and don't you cry, Mamma's baby boy, your papa will come to us by and by. Mamma's baby boy. **For papa loves mamma and both love you, Then close your eyes so dreamy and blue. Your papa will come, he has always been true. Mamma's baby boy." I said, ''Mrs. Kelly, how is Tom!" ''Poor Tom, poor Tom," she said, "he died of a smoking cancer. ' ' Josh Billings said of the preacher who kept on after he had preached two hours to a tired, sleepy congregation and seemed to have made no impression, "After a man has been boring for an hour and don't strike ile, he must come to one of two conclusions. He is not boring in the right place, or his auger is too small." 74 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS WIT SHAEPENED WITH USE As I see and hear public men I am convinced that they become on the alert and too sharp for us common fellows to interrupt or question when they have the floor. It is said a drunken man once staggered up to Mr. Moody and said, **Do you recognize mef Mr. Moody said, ^^I don't remember of ever seeing you.'' The drunken man said, *^You ought to remember me — you are the man that converted me." ^^ Quite likely," Mr. Moody said. **You look about like some of my work. If the Lord had converted you you would be in a better fix than you are now." It is said that a minister on a passenger train with a delegation of preachers from the Metho- dist Church South, who had heard Wendell Phil- lips the night before handle the slavery question, said, *^Mr. Phillips, why don't you come down south where slavery exists and do your talking?" Said Phillips, ^^ You are a preacher of the gospel, trying to save sinners from hell?" *^Yes," said the preacher. *^Why don't you go right down OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 75 into hell and preach where the devil isT' asked Phillips. At a conference of preachers where a learned bishop presided, a backwoods preacher in rather a boasting way thanked the Lord that he had no college education. The old bishop said, *^The brother doesn^t mean to thank the Lord for his ignorance f ^'Yes,'' said he, *4f that is the way you put it, I do.^' ^^Well,'' said the bishop, ^*my dear brother, you have a great deal to be thank- ful for.'' It is told that Benjamin Franklin, when sign- ing the Declaration of Independence, said, ^ ' Gen- tlemen, we must hang together. If we do not. King George will see to it that we hang sepa- rately. ' ' The old Scotch storekeeper, when he came home and found his green Scotch nephew had sold about one hundred dollars worth of goods to a worthless lawyer, said, ^^This is a sorry day for me, Sandy, I fear I shall lose my mind, and then I will be na better off than yourseP, poor, fickle lad.'' 76 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS AS I HEARD SAM JONES AT MOLINE, ILLINOIS He said, ^'Wheii I was in Georgia I preaclied to a colored congregation. Among my audience was a good old soul; she would have weighed two hundred pounds dressed. When I had fin- ished speaking she came to shake hands with me and said, * Brother Jones, you talk mo like a nigger than any man I ever heard. You have a white skin, but bress the Lo^d, you have a black heart.' '^ He said what we are short of in this world is men, real men, with backbones. ^*A young lady sits out on the front porch Sunday evening. She sees something coming up the road smoking a cigarette ; she thinks it is a man coming to see her. It isn't a man at all, it's just a pair of old breeches; he hasn't any backbone, he has just a cotton string run up his back." He said a dude was a cipher with the rim knocked off, and the way he had of telling you to quit your meanness left the impression with you, ^'Better be a better man. ' ' OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 77 AS I HEARD INGERSOLL At Keokuk, Iowa, I heard Robert G. Ingersoll lecture on Shakespeare. I must say he was among the very best public speakers I ever heard. He said when Shakespeare has said a thing all has been said on that subject that can be said. An ordinary man might have said, ^*0n a night like this a dog should stand against my fire.'' A little smarter man might have said, ^'My enemy's dog should stand against my fire," but Shakespeare said, '^On a night like this my enemy's dog, though he would have bit me, should stand against my fire." Now, there is all said on that subject that can be said. Nothing is left unsaid. In the cook of Athens insensible the palate of old age, more stupid than the soft lips of youth, to move I put much mustard in their dish with quickening sauces, make there stupor, keen and lash the lazy blood that creeps within. In thought we see the blood in the old man's veins run slow. Shakespeare was a great reader of character. He said, ^^Let me have about me fat men, men with sleek heads, that sleep o' 78 POEMS, SONGS AND TARNS nights. Yon Cassius has a lean and hungry look; he thinks too much. Such men are dangerous. Ingersoll said, *^In my opinion Shakespeare pumped every man dry he met. He was a poet, an artist, a philosopher, a mechanic, a lawyer, a judge, a prince, a peasant, an all around man, such as has never been equaled.'' When Inger- soll had talked two hours and quit I wished for him to go on. He left the impression with me that Shakespeare was the greatest man that ever had lived. I also realized, as Beecher once said, in introducing Ingersoll, ^^He is the best expo- nent of the English language on the globe. ' ' His concentration of thought, his ability to make us see and feel as he saw and felt surely was the divine in the human; and quoting from his ora- tion at his brother's grave, ''Hope sees a star, and listening love hears the rustle of a wing." Surely such minds must live again. He said, **You remember the medicine you gave me for the wart on my face? Well, the face is all gone, but the wart is still there." OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 79 PANAMA CANAL IN THREE ROOTS Last summer at the Old Settlers' Meeting at Jewel City, Kansas, I heard the editor of the Mail and Breeze, McNeal. He said that the wind blew so hard in Kansas that the banks had to ship their notes and mortgages out of the state a little before the tax assessor came round, as the wind blew so hard about that time of the year, they dare not keep them in the state. He said Kansas is so productive that if all the wheat that had been raised in Kansas had been ground into flour, and that flour had been made into one immense doughnut, and all the colored people of the Afri- can race could have been put inside the hole of that doughnut, before they could have eaten their way out, they all would have died of old age and the race problem would have been solved. He said if all the corn that had been raised in Kansas had been fed to hogs and by some magic wand could have become one immense hog, that hog could have rooted out the Panama Canal in 80 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS three roots, showing Kansas was somewhat on the hog. He left the impression with ns that Kansas soil and Kansas men were capable of great things. As Josh Billings said of '^caliker,'' nobody knows what Kansas will do next. Kansas don^t know herself. Do what you like to do best, that is honorable, but try to get in line with your possibilities. An old Scotchman who thought his apprentice slow, said, *' Sandy has three hands — a right hand, a left hand and a little behindhand. ' ' A stuttering, stammering man, or an old coun- tryman with a large brogue, a Dutchman that would say, *^If a dog don't know his master the best ting is right away the gun, or throw de cow over de fence some hay.'' Paddy Tobin had difficulty in getting the words out. He was asked by John Buckley how much he got for his hogs. *^Four — four — four — dollars and a cracker, ' ' said Paddy. He was not endowed by nature for a successful public speaker. OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 81 MATILDA FLETCHER At Erie, Illinois, I once lieard Matilda Fletcher lecture. The caption of her lecture was, *^Is man an angel f I thought perhaps we would get a bad setting out, but was agreeably surprised when in beautiful language she showed man to be only a little lower than the angel here and capable of becoming greater in the beyond. She said when a little girl, she and her little brother slept upstairs, where the roof came down low. One stormy night the rain and hail was pelting on the roof, the wind and thunder made the house shiver and quake in all its joints. She knelt by the bed and said her prayers; her little brother stayed longer on his knees than common. When he got into bed he said, ^^What did you pray?" She said, *^ *Our Father, who art in heaven, and ^Now I lay me down to sleep.' '* He said, *^I prayed more than that, I alius pray lots on these thunderin' nights, '* and she said as she grew older she found that all men and women prayed on the thunderin' nights. Prayer is the upward turning of the eye when none but God is near. 82 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS YE PLUMBER Behold ye plumber went forth to plumb, and when he had plumbed but eight short hours, lo and behold! his bill was forty dollars; and Esau sat a watch and with a leveled shotgun did guard ye gate and when ye plumber came forth to plumb he smote him with the jawbone of another man's mule. Ye plumber being sorely pressed, betook himself to the brush and the hill country round about, for Esau belabored him hip and thigh until the going of the sun, and ye plumber was heard of in those parts no more forever. And Esau caused a decree to be sent forth through all the country round about, that if a plumber's shadow so much as fell in the doorway of his domicile or a plumber's foot was sat on his vast estate, there would be blood on the moon, and he would not leave a stone unturned until he had appeased the vengeance of his wrath. A warning to all plumbers to desist from unreasonable, ex- orbitant and profanity causing out-of-sight prices. OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 83 IMPROVE We are today what we were made by the pro- ducing causes. We had no part or lot in the matter. A child born idiotic is not to blame. We are today what our education and surroundings have made us. We are today what we have made ourselves as actors in the premises. We are not responsible for the disposition we were born with, but we are very much respon- sible for the disposition we die with. There is no limit known to the attainment of a man or woman with an average development of body and brain. Rodney Abbott, near Los Angeles, California, told me of coming home one day from the lumber office not feeling well. He went in the front of the house and lay down on the lounge. A blind girl opened the door from an adjoining room. After a while, ** Rodney,^* she said, *^are you homeT' ^^Yes,'' he answered, **but how did you 84 POEMS, SONGS AND TARNS know?'' ''I smelled your shoes." He had on a pair of new tan shoes. George Hunt, Jr., near Port Byron, Illinois, told me when cutting wood last winter a blind mare was running loose in the ten-acre timber lot. He took an apple with him and laid it on a stump. He saw the blind mare coming through the timber straight for that apple and was within two feet of it when he took it off the stump. My uncle, J. K. M. Looker, told me of a man who took the hats and belongings of guests at a Chicago hotel as they went into dinner by the hundreds. He gave to each as they came out, his hat, umbrella or package marked ^'nothing." Some stayed in ten minutes, some half an hour, etc., but he remembered the face of the person, the hat, and where he had laid it. If we do not re- member, it is because we are careless. Our mind is on something else or nothing in particular. The story is told of a New York newspaper man, who thought he never could remember names as long as they were being told to him. OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 85 His wife said to him, *'I will help you improve your memory of names. Each night when you come home to supper, tell me of the people you have met at your office and their names." He did that and became remarkable for his memory of names. He was called Nestor of the New York Press. It was said a man stood a poor show who did not consult and get the support of Thurlow Weed. If w^e are not up to the standard of what we would be, it is up to us to improve. AS I REMEMBER DR. HARVEY W. WILEY I heard Dr. Harvey W. Wiley at the Augus- tana College, Rock Island, Illinois, who won fame as the aggressive of the chemistry bureau, at Washington, D. C. He said the public health is worth more than all the resources and wealth of the country. There is only one cause for which a respectable person ought to die, and that is 86 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS old age. More people die from impure and poorly cooked food than from all other causes. I wish we had more cookstoves and fewer pianos. I would rather know how to cook a potato than paint frescoes like Michael Angelo. Few see them, but all eat potatoes. Never heard from a president's message to safeguard the public health, but hopes Wilson will say something. Feels kindly toward Taft for not kicking him out but giving him time enough to resign. Not a word in Taft's message about the public health, when it is the nation's greatest asset. When the French tried to build the Panama canal each tie in their forty miles of railroad along the canal route could have been numbered with a dead man for each tie. Uncle Sam's medical department each morning, before any one stirred along the line of works, sprinkled kerosene oil in each pond or puddle of water formed from the rains the night before that no mosquitoes could breed to cause malaria, and the death rate in the canal zone is only three to each thousand in a year. In the United States, where it is much healthier, naturally the death rate is fourteen to the thou- OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 87 sand if we had but three to the thousand in this country the average length of life would be eighty-eight years instead of forty-four as it is now. Fifty-two per cent, of the really great and good things have been accomplished by men be- tween sixty and seventy years of age, while only two per cent have been accomplished by men under forty. He said when we have gotten ready to do something really great we have been dead about fifteen years. Out of one thousand babies born one hundred and twenty-seven die before they are one year old. Most of these deaths could be prevented. During July and August one thousand babies die each day. The mother's milk is the best food for the baby; good cow's milk comes next; next a good cook is the best blessing a household can have, not a drudge, but a fine art. Dr. Wiley said life is worth too much to take it by your own hand over love affairs or poorly cooked and adulterated food. He said never run after a woman or a street car — another one will be along in a short time. A man at forty-four has spent five solid years at the table eating, twenty years in getting and 88 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS preparing food and sleeping to allow his food to digest and assimilate. Therefore he regards eating the principal industry of man. He told us of the man who had inscribed on his wife's tombstone, ^'The light of my life has gone out.'' In about a year he married another. A wag wrote below the inscription, **But I have struck another match, if the light that is in thee be dark- ness, how great is that darkness; strike another match." According to physiology the epificies join to the long bones of all animals with verte- bra at about one-fifth of their age. In the man the epifices join to the femur bones at twenty or twenty-one years, showing man should live to one hundred years. 0. W. LOOKER, M. D. I want to do all the good I can in all the ways I can to all that need the little knowledge that I have. I went through a medical college, got my sheepskin, practiced medicine ten years, and among what I thought good you are welcome to. OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 89 If you or your child has '* caught cold/' as we call it, bake the feet in a hot oven or put the feet in hot water; give some warm drink, wrap up warm in bed. Get the blood to circulate in the extremities as the blood is driven from the sur- face and may congest in the lungs. If illness results from the kidneys or some inter- nal organ, or even from lagrippe, we should keep in a warm room for several days. I think if we would stay in a warm room for three days when we first feel we are taking cold we would get rid of our colds and there is no end to the trouble that we say started from a bad cold. CATAREH OF THE HEAD Catarrh of the head and nose is congestion of the mucous lining of the nose. I use a solution of oxide of zinc (white powder), peppermint and carbolic acid, about 60 drops of carbolic acid, 20 drops of essence of peppermint and a teaspoonful of oxide of zinc in one pint of wat^r. Shake well before using. Warm and inject with one-eighth ounce hard rubber syringe in the nose night and 90 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS morning; warm enough in a tin cup over lamp or fire. It should be strong enough of carbolic acid to smart the mucous membrane of the nose just a little. This solution made a little stronger is the best I know of for itching skin, ivy poison- ing, etc. Mop on with cloth wet in solution once an hour as needed to stop itching. WOUNDS OF THE SKIN The best application I know of for wounds of the skin is tannin, a brown powder. If the wound is clean and wet with blood, put the tannin pow- der on. If there is dirt in wound, cleanse with warm water, then put on the powder, tie up, and allow to heal without undoing. If undone, use more powder each time. The skin has seven layers. If only four are torn off there will be no scar. If the seven layers are cut through there will be a scar when healed. For fever of children, put a small thimble full of acetanilid in a cup. Fill with hot water, sweeten, and give a teaspoonful once an hour. For adults, take about one half that amount or about five grains every three hours as needed for fever, headache and lagrippe. OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 91 A FAIRY TALE OF A LITTLE BLACK NOSE Little Fay Rue lived with her father and mother and two large sisters. Her big sisters would tease her and say, Little Fay Rue, little Fay Rue, Cried a few lines and went ^'boohoo,'' Cried a few lines and went ^ ^ mamma, ' * Cried a few lines and went ^^papa.'' Little Fay, being so much smaller and more delicate than her big sisters could only call to her mother and father for relief when teased too much. Little Fay hoped to be big and stout enough some day to pay them back. One day when her big sister was blacking her shoes, little Fay tried to trip her big sister as she stood on one foot. Her big sister, to get even, daubed the blacking on little Fay's nose. Fay went crying to her mother who tried to wash it off, but to her surprise and horror it would not come off. Little Fay cried, her mother cried, her father scolded, but *to no purpose. The black spot •stayed and when Fay went to school they called 92 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS her * kittle black nose/' Each night Fay would come home to her mother crying, ^^Dear mother, do get this black spot off my nose.'' Her mother called the doctor's help, but to no purpose; the spot remained. Her parents spent both time and money, still it seemed little Fay was to go through the world as *' little black nose." She kept to herself as much as possible to and from school and at play time to keep from being teased about her black nose. An old Mexican lady had told her to be a good girl and not cry, and maybe a good fairy would come some day and take that black spot away and make her the most beautiful lady in the world. Fay cherished this in her heart and kept it to herself. One morning not long after this on her way to school, having passed the old Mexican lady's house, a little black pig ran in the path ahead of Fay. It seemed to know her and to be so tame Fay tried to catch it, and grabbed it by the tail. Its tail pulled off in her hand. The pig scampered away and Fay put the pig's tail in her pocket and thought about it and the queer little pig all day. At night when she went home she told her mother of the queer little pig, how in trying to catch it she had pulled off its tail, showing the pig's tail OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 93 she had in her pocket. Her mother who was very neat, also very, very careful concerning lit- tle Fay, was much displeased to see her little daughter with a pig's tail in her pocket, took it from Fay and threw it in the yard on the lawn. To her great dismay and the delight of Fay, the pig's tail was transformed into the most beau- tiful white pony anyone had ever seen. ^*0h! mamma,'' cried Fay, ^4t has a black nose." Her mamma looked at Fay. *^0h, my darling child, the black spot has gone from your nose, and the little pony surely has it, that must have been a lit- tle fairy pig. I have heard of some such thing." That night when Fay's father and two sisters came home there was great rejoicing when they saw little Fay with the black spot gone from her nose and heard the story of the little fairy pig and saw the beautiful little white pony with its black nose. Next morning when it was time for Fay to go to school, there by the door stood the little pony with the most beautiful gold mounted saddle and bridle on, ready to take Fay to school, as if it knew that was its daily task. As Fay rode through the streets, all the children ran to see her, and old people declared that only in fairyland had such a beautiful pony and saddle been seen, which in 94 POEMS, SONGS AND TARNS truth was true, for there is where it had come from. Fay rode to the old Mexican lady's on her way to school and in great joy told her all. The old lady said, ^'Fay, be a good girl as you have been and when you are through your school, the little pig will cross your path again. If you should pull oif one of its ears and your mamma would throw it on the ground for you, you will have the finest house in the world with real fairies for servants and be the most beautiful lady in all the world. Little Fay is trying to be good, has the admiration, love and respect of all that know her. Her little pony is the pet of all the school children. Fay is learning her lessons well, wants to get a good education so when she is grown she will know how to talk and entertain the fine ladies and gentlemen that will surely visit her when she lives in this beautiful mansion. Two Irishmen were hunting a cow and came to a sign-board that read, '*To Manchester forty miles. '* ^'Do you see that on yon board. Patsy? 'Tis a foine thing I can read — two men chased her forty miles. We will go no further tonight, bad luck to them.*' OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 95 MYSELF I feel it my duty to myself and those who take their time to read my book to know something of wiio I am and what advantages I have had and how well I have improved my time and oppor- tunities in the world. I was born in Pennsylvania in 1859. My par- ents came to Rock Island County, Illinois, in 1860. My father died in the army at LaGrange, Tenn- essee in 1863. My chances for schooling were not of the best, but I can see now, that I should have improved the chance I had much better than I did. I never was a very good student, when it came to studying books, but at work I seemed to be able to do almost anything I tried. I w^orked at blacksmithing until I could make a full hand sharpening picks and drills for the coal miners. I worked at the carpenter trade until I could build houses and command full pay. I can plaster a house, paint a house, lay brick, milk cows, make a hand on a farm, and writing verse, singing songs and trying to entertain the public is another adventure. 96 POEMS, SONGS AND YARNS I spent four years of the best of my life to get through a medical school. I practiced medicine ten years. I am trying to improve my mind ; to help those I come in contact with; and feel that my forte is gaining from those I see and hear more than from books, as I am not the student of books I might hope to be. Ingersoll said of Shakespeare, **He pumped every man dry that he met.'^ I want to see and hear our great and near great men and women and hope to gain in that way. A man I once heard, who had made a study of the picture business, claimed that eighty per cent, of what we learned came to us through ob- servation. I am thankful for good eyesight. **Have you anything to say, Pat, before I pass sentence on youf said the judge. ^^No, noth- ing, * * said Pat. Then I will give you thirty years in the penitentiary at hard labor. ^ ' Now, judge, ' ^ said Pat, ^'I have something to say. It seems to me, judge, you are dom liberal with the other man's time.'* OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 97 CHICAGO'S LIVE MODEL OF AET At the Art Institute in Chicago, There were works from the masters of old, There were paintings and frescoes and statues. Of such marvels the half is ne'er told. As I sat there all charmed with their beauty, A living model more fair, More stately, more bending and graceful. Walked in and stood facing me there. From her eyes shone the real spark of heaven. When she met mine there was no disdain. Then she passed out among the art beauties. And I never will see her again. But I know that up in Chicago, There is a live model of Art, And blessed is the man who is able To capture her love and her heart. Gathered in from the land of fair women, Chicago has surely her share. At the Art Institute there are models, But the living are even more fair. 98 POEMS, SONGS AND TARNS I ADORE THEE, BLESSED SLEEP Sleep is nature's great restorer, I adore thee, blessed sleep, Let me swoon away in slumber. Where heaven bends my soul to keep. Should I dream of love unanswered, Help me claim an honest heart. Fill my soul with love's sweet music, Let us never, never part. Care and strife and disappointment, I forget them all with thee. Almost wish the day was over, That blessed sleep might come to me. HARSH WORDS For harsh words spoken There is no repair. As well try to draw the oak back into the acorn, As to recall a sentence that has once gone forth. OLEN WINFIELD LOOKER 99 THE YANKEE PEDDLER^S GRANDSON Grandfather peddled, with his pack He went from town to town, The disposition thus to roam, I think was handed down. ril go from here, I'll go from there, I'll go from all I know, For grandfather never stopped. Till he left all below. And traveled through an unknown land. Where mind and spirit blend, And sees the beauties of a world. They say that has no end. Grandfather told his jokes and yarns. And I will rhyme my song. And sing them where I stop at night. And then I'll journey on. To leave some joy and hope with friends, I meet along the way, God bless dear friends who make their homes^ My welcome place to stay. 100 P0E3IS, SONGS AND YARNS DEEAD TO HAVE MOTHER KNOW Come back again and be with me, Faith, hope and love and joy, When mother bore my cares for me. She said, don't mind, my boy, You'll be a great big man some day, Then you will make things go. The honest look in mother's eyes. Assured me that was so. But long and anxious years have gone. Since mother cheered me thus, I cannot doubt her faith and love, Deceived were both of us. When life's long struggle I am through. To heaven I would go. But how I failed from mother's hopes, I dread to have her know. FEB ^3 1913 015