You have seen him on the street
Every day,
Heard the shuffle of his feet
On the way,
Heard his piercing voice so shrill,
Calling out with right good will,
Through a ragged, whiskered jaw,
"Free Press," "Citizen," "Le Taw."[2]
All the city knows him well,
For he's queer;
Half a century--quite a spell--
He's been here.
Spent his life 'mong paper boys,
Shared their hardships and their joys,
Winter blast and springtime thaw,
Calling "Journal," "Press," "Le Taw."
Copper Johnny is his name,
Poor old chap;
He's a cripple with a cane
And a pack.
Selling papers is his trade,
Makes a living without aid,
Never broke but music's law,
Crying "Journal," "Press," "Le Taw."
There's a kind of wistful look
On his face;
Could we read it as a book
We might trace
Memories of a loved one, sweet,
Her who helps his weary feet,
As to fill Need's hungry maw
He calls "Journal," "Press," "Le Taw."
Copper Johnny's gray and old,
Partly blind;
And his face is rough in mold,
But it's kind;
And his eyes are blue and pale,
Bleached by many a stormy gale;
Cracked, his voice, with many a flaw,
Calling "Journal," "Press," "Le Taw."
We have missed him, for his place
None can fill,
And we long to see his face,
But he's ill.
He was strange and old and talked,
Muttered always as he walked.
Strangest newsie one e'er saw,
With "Press," "Citizen," "Le Taw."
Maybe Johnny won't get well,
Who can tell!
He's been sick for quite a spell
Since he fell,
Crushed beneath the horses' feet,
As he called upon the street
Through the evening gray and raw,
"Free Press," "Citizen," "Le Taw."
Should God take him up from here,
This I know:
There'll be flowers on his bier,
Not for show;
And the Lord who loves the poor
Will grant Johnny this, I'm sure,
Right to shout 'neath Heaven's law,
"Free Press," "Citizen," "Le Taw."
[1] John McDowell, known as Copper Johnny, for many years a newsboy
of Ottawa, was knocked down by a horse near the Russell House,
Sparks Street. He was in the hospital when this appreciation was
written.
[2] Johnny pronounced Le Temps--"Le Taw".