To choose a brunette for a mate,
Whose eyes and hair have the dark hue
Which proves that she'll be wise and true.
CATS A KISSIN' (CATECHISM)
Last week my cousin Patti, who isn't yet quite three,
Went to our good Sunday School with Mother and with me.
She sat quite still and listened well to all the teacher said,
Until I thought she stowed away much knowledge in her head.
But when that evening Auntie asked, "What did my darling hear
When she went to Sunday School; tell me, won't you, dear?"
She shrugged her little shoulders and said, "Not anyfing
Except dey said some funny words and den began to sing;
Though 'bout de cats a kissin', well, the teacher said you should
Teach me ev'ry evenin' and den I'd be so dood."
INFORMATION BY PHONE
Little brilliant Nellie, whose Ma thought she was ill,
Took her to the doctor, who gave her a big bill,
For sounding with a stethoscope young Nellie's narrow chest
And making her scream "Ninety-nine" with her utmost zest.
Next day a friend asked Nellie, "What did the doctor think
Is the matter with you? Are you on Death's brink?"
"Not much," said little Nellie, "no bugs could doctor find;
In fact he said that all my ills were just in mother's mind."
"But how did he discover this, he couldn't see through you,
And maybe what this doctor said is anything but true?"
"Of course the doctor told the truth," most scornfully said Nell,
"I heard him phone to my insides, and they said I was well."
OUR PRESIDENTS
George Washington, Adams and Jefferson three
First rulers of Uncle Sam's land of the free:
Then Madison, Monroe and Adams again
All clever and upright and good honest men;
Then Jackson, Van Buren and Harrison first,
Tyler and Polk whose terms were so curst
By war with the Greasers who lost in the fray--
Then Taylor and Fillmore and Pierce held their sway.
Buchanan and Lincoln, Johnson and Grant,
Then Hayes, martyred Garfield, despiser of cant,
Arthur and Cleveland, Harrison (Ben)
McKinley the martyr, beloved by all men;
Then most energetic and strenuous Teddy
And plump William Taft for a second term ready
When Wilson was placed in this nation's great chair
And promised to always rule wisely and fair.
SIX IN THE CEMETERY
Oh, the kiddie-de-kees in the Wiggs' house,
They're thick as bees, but ne'er like a mouse,
For they've never been known to keep the least quiet,
And wherever they go there's always a riot.
One day, Mrs. Wiggs and her husband Pat
Made a trip to the city to rent a flat
And left their six kiddies at home to play
On the graveyard green across the way.
The two elder Wiggs they found a man,
With flats he would rent on most any plan,
But concerning one thing he said he must know
If kiddies they owned--the rent man's foe.
"Yes, six little ones," said Pa Wiggs the wary,
"But they are all in the cemetery."
Said the landlord, "Better there than here,"
And he drew up a lease without any fear.
And that's how the Wiggs got their lease
In a so-called kidless flat of PEACE.
COULD ONLY ASK QUESTIONS
"Madeline," asked her mother, when home she came at noon,
"How did you like your teacher, or can't you tell so soon?"
MADELINE:
"Oh, yes, I formed my 'pinion long 'fore I started home,
She's rather pleasant, looks quite wise, and wears a lovely comb,
But surely she is stupid in spite of her wise looks,
'Cause she only asked us questions from out of a lot of books."
SEEKING BARGAINS
When Mother told Tommy five cents she would pay
If he would be good and "damn" never say,
The wary young Yankee, he made this reply--
"To be sure, I won't, Mother, not once if I die;
But I know another, a word worser still,
If damn's worth a nickel, it's worth a whole bill."
CULTUS MITLITE
(_Chinook Indian for Rest_)
One of the greatest of pleasures to me
Whenever I happen to be near the sea,
Is clam digging to go upon the broad beach
And get all the clams that my shovel can reach.
Along Puget Sound I was clamming one day,
When a poor Indian squaw and child came my way.
The mother was digging up clams with her toes,
And was dressed very poorly in very few clothes.
But her face seemed so kind as she smiled at her child,
A wee Indian warrior, who seemed very wild.
He turned over stones and he ran to and fro
And drove out poor crabbies as their fiercest foe.
But at last he grew weary and to the squaw came,
While limping so slowly as if he were lame,
And crying, "Ho, mama, ho nika, ho til!"
Which meant of crab sporting that he'd had his fill.
That squaws are so cross I have read in a book,
But not so this mother, who gently did look
Upon her wee torment, while patting his head,
And "Cultus Mitlite," so sweetly she said.
This meant that the warrior might take a long rest,
The pleasure of pleasures that red men like best.
HER TURN COMING
A wee little girlie aged scarcely six
One day watched her mother playing with Trix,
A cunning French poodle that oft got a kiss
Belonging by rights to this dear little miss.
She was jealous of Trix curled up on the lap
Of her lovely mother where SHE wished to nap.
So she sat very still while she gave a big sigh
And questioned her mother "How soon do dogs die?"
The mother replied as she petted Trix's ears,
"They rarely live longer than nine or ten years."
"Oh, goodie!" cried Girlie. "In six years next May
There won't be a Trixie and I'll have my way."
WHEN WILL WE BE OLD ENOUGH?
"Little children should be seen
And not heard," folks say.
We must scarcely speak aloud
When company comes to stay
For breakfast or for dinner
Or for a cup of tea,
So solemn and so quiet
We little folks must be.
We must not tell that Daddy
Once used an awful word
The very, very worstest
That ever could be heard.
Nor how our mother curls her hair
And powders well her nose
And sometimes takes an hour or more
To put on her best clothes.
We dare not tell how sister
Was spanked for being rude
And how our baby brother
Was choked upon his food.
In fact we must not speak at all
Except words no and yes
And when we swallow all our thoughts
They cause us great distress.
So we are wondering how much more
We kiddies yet must grow
Ere we can speak out what we think
And tell all things we know.
JOHNNIE'S CONUNDRUM
Once Johnnie to his brother said--
"Here's a conundrum for you, Fred,
They say all nuts on trees must grow
What tree bears doughnuts, do you know?"
"Oh, yes," Fred promptly made reply,
"I'll answer dat de firstest try,
Dey grows on Bridget's nice pantry.
Tum right wid me and you tan see."
TITANIC'S NOBLE BAND
O'er great Atlantic's waters,
Old Father Neptune's pride,
On a starry night in April,
Oh, see Titanic ride!
This spacious Queen of steamers
Holds high her masted head
For she believes all waters
Are conquered by her tread.
"Alas, vain Queen, you're speeding
Unto a watery tomb!"
So telegraphed the breezes
To save her from her doom.
But she no heed gave to them
And faster forged ahead
When suddenly before her--
Great tombstone for the dead--
Old Neptune's giant iceberg
Shone white beneath the sky
His icy breath gave warning
"Don't touch me or you die."
But heedless to this warning
The ship steered on her way
And struck the icy monster
For which her life did pay.
With his great strength this giant
Then rent her sides in twain
And left her floundering helpless
Upon the boundless main.
Her passengers in terror
Rushed to the upper deck
And there her Captain told them
"Titanic is a wreck.
"And all the little children
And women in great haste
Must go aboard the life boat,
No moments are to waste."
But when these little children
Held to their fathers' hand
And wives clung to their husbands
They heard this dread command--
"The boats are but for women,
All men on deck must stay
And wait till help comes to us--
There is no other way."
But those who loved their husbands
And were most loyal wives
Refused to leave the men they loved
To save their own poor lives.
Then rough hands tore asunder
The arms of love entwined,
And threw the wives into the boats
And left the men behind.
But while the cries of parting
With grief all hearts did tear,
The band of the Titanic
Struck up a lively air
Of jolly ragtime music
And glad notes of good cheer,
As if to tell the people
There was no cause to fear.
Since aid would soon come flying
And all would rescued be,
So why should hearts be saddened
When bandmen played with glee.
Down, down Titanic's going,
But still the band plays on,
The brave men know they're sinking
That they will soon be gone.
But how can they die better
Than giving helping cheer
To those who from Death's waters
Are trembling in great fear.
So as the water covers
The deck just at their feet,
They play with solemn fervor
A hymn majestic sweet.
And, "Nearer, oh, my God, to Thee,
And nearer yet to Thee,"
Gave courage to the drowning men
Who struggled in the sea.
For Colonel Astor, Major Butt
And learned William Stead,
And many other noble men
We mourn Titanic's dead.
And with them we all honor
The band who cheered their way
To meet the ever-dreaded King
To whom all lives must pay.
_Concerning this jingle Elbert Hubbard said: "Dear Little Friend: This
is your masterpiece of word painting descriptive of courage, anguish
and man's helplessness."_
HOW TO BE HAPPY
One night as I slept there came to me
A dear little sprite from o'er the sea,
And sweetly smiling, whispered to me:
"Shall I tell you how to happy be?"
Of course I asked for the recipe
Which worked its magic soon on me,
And as I'm happy as one can be
I'd like to tell the news to thee.
It's not advice we might call new,
But it gives us joy that's pure and true;
It's simply the "MUSE OF SMILES" to woo,
And whate'er we have each day to do--
Tasks that are pleasant and sad ones too--
With a smiling face our work go through,
Forgetful of self and "HOPEBEAMS" strew
For those who see not the brightest view.
REVENGE ON AN ACHING TOOTH
One time I had an awful pain
Which made me groan and cry;
It felt like daggers in my head
Which stabbed at my right eye.
It was the toothache, mother said,
And as she petted me,
She quite agreed with Bobby Burns
That nothing worse could be.
Not even chiggers, ainhum, yaws,
Or leprosy and sprue,
With craw-craw and the Dhobie itch,
Piedra and goundou.
Beriberi and pinta, too,
With cholera and boils,
And dengue and bubonic plague
Or dreadful serpents' coils.
With fevers scarlet, yellow, black
And measles and the mumps,
Green apple-colic, whooping cough,
And chicken-pox's bumps.
In Mother's sympathy for me
No comfort could I find,
And so I sought the dentist's aid,
Where forceps cruel but kind
Removed the sore and aching tooth,
And freed me from the pang,
Which by the noted Bobby Burns
Was called "A venomed stang."
And when the dentist gave to me
The very little thing
Which for so long had tortured me
With joy I longed to sing.
And I resolved to sugar it
And watch it every day,
While it was having dreadful pangs
And I could laugh and play.
AN OLD-TIME AND A MODERN SONG
"Baby Bye,
Here's a fly;
Let us watch him, you and I.
How he crawls
Up the walls;
Yet he never falls!
I believe with six such legs
You and I could walk on eggs.
There he goes
On his toes
Tickling baby's nose."
Daddy, dear,
Oh, come here,
For I fear a fly is near!
There he goes
On his toes
Touching baby's nose!
Oh, alas, our child may die,
Come and quickly swat this fly!
Baby's ill,
Get a pill
And the fly germs kill!
LEGEND OF WESTMINSTER ABBEY
Sebert the first East Saxon king,
Who of our Christ did preach and sing
He built the first church on the ground
Where fair Westminster now is found.
And to this church 'tis often said
Came good St. Peter from the dead
And with the angels sweet and fair
Descending on a golden stair
Reaching from the Heavens above
And bringing to this earth pure love.
He consecrated and he blest
This Christian church above the rest
Of churches in old England's Isle
And on this site the saints still smile.
HOW MOTHER LEARNED NATURAL HISTORY
One day while sitting on the beach
Talking of child training
With a most learned pedagogue
From whose lips were raining
Great torrents of most wondrous lore
Upon most subjects known,
My Mother learned one little fact
This wise man did not own--
And this through making a most sad
Acquaintance with a bee,
Who wore a yellow jacket suit
To show his family.
This stinging warrior with his stings
Felt nothing of alarm
And boldly marched beneath the lace
That covered Mother's arm.
And when she tried to let him out
He stung her o'er and o'er
As if he had a warrior band
Well armed with stings galore.
And when at last my Mother brave
Killed this most wicked bee
Her arm was, oh, so very sore,
With ten lumps I could see.
Said the professor solemnly
While gazing at her arm,
"I thought my Natural History said
That bees can do no harm;
If they but use their stingers once,
They ne'er can sting again.
But you've been stung by some insect
That carriers stingers ten."
"Oh, no," said Mother, with a smile,
"It had one stinger wee,
But now I call a yellow jacket,
'Sting ad finem bee.'"
THE DAYS OF CHIVALRY
In days of chivalry, so I've been told,
All knights were gallant, kind and bold,
But ladies though ever so modest and sweet
Made the bold knights kneel down at their feet.
ON MIDSUMMER NIGHT
On midsummer night or St. John's eve
Is fairies' night when they receive
All their friends and all their slaves,
The goblins, witches, trollish knaves.
And if the olden tales be true,
All men and maids have cause to rue,
Who on this night dare go abroad
And touch a foot to fairy sod;
For naught will save them but to jump
Right o'er a fire or blazing stump.
But if you're brave and do not fear
That for your rashness you'll pay dear,
Then stand beneath an elder tree
And King of Fairies you may see.
Should you then wish to ride afar
With him to some far distant star,
Then quickly tread St. John's wort flower
And he will show you "Fairies' Bower,"
And also carry you all night
To many lands, until the light
Comes with Aurora's face so fair,
When he will drop you anywhere,
It matters not where he may be,
On mountain, desert, or the sea.
And therefore few men whom I know
Are brave enough with him to go.
And think it best to bide at home
And not with fairies far to roam.
BEWARE OF THE WET
Johnnie Jones, you'd bettah stop
Paddlin' in de wet,
Lest you grow to be a duck
Or somethin' worser yet
With a pudgy mushroom head
Shaped like an umbrella,
Which would make you, handsome lad,
Such an ugly fellah.
TO MODERN KNIGHTS
What would you do, oh, my good brothers,
Should anyone insult your mothers,
Your sisters, sweethearts or your wives
By saying they lived worthless lives
Because they could not go to fight
In cruel war with men of might?
The one who slandered women so,
Ah, you would treat him as your foe.
What would you do, oh, my good brothers,
Should anyone insult your mothers,
Your sisters, sweethearts or your wives,
Declaring they lived worthless lives
And classing them with lunatics
Or, even worse, with fierce convicts?
The one who slandered women so,
Ah, you would treat him as your foe.
What would you do, oh, my good brothers,
Should anyone insult your mothers,
Your sisters, sweethearts or your wives
By saying they are worthless lives,
And that all women are inferiors,
And even black men are superiors?
The one who slandered women so,
Ah, you would treat him as your foe.
What would you do, oh, my good brothers,
Should anyone insult your mothers,
Your sisters, sweethearts or your wives
By calling them mere worthless lives
Because all men now take the lead,
E'en though they cannot write or read?
The one who slandered women so,
Ah, you would treat him as your foe.
Awake! Arise! Oh, my good brothers,
Your country's law insults your mothers,
Your sisters, sweethearts and your wives,
And classes them as worthless lives,
Declaring that no vote have they
As to who rules this U. S. A.
So, modern knights, now make new laws
That bear an equal franchise clause.
A SONG OF THE WOODS
"My leaves are turning crimson," the giant oak tree said,
"It's almost time these children should seek their winter's bed,
But how they still cling to me and gleam with crimson hue,
They truly are more lovely than cirrus clouds of blue.
"And now throughout the forest--list! hear their voices ring,
But 'tis in tones of sadness and sighing they now sing--
'Alas! 'tis gone, fair summer, and winter's reign is near,
He cruelly strips the forest of all her summer cheer
By killing all her lovely leaves and likewise flowers gay
And driving all her fairy folk to homes of far away.'"
BRICK VERSUS WATCH
"Nursie, dear, oh, I'ze afraid
I haz breakt a brick
In de big old fireplace.
Please to mend it quick
'Fore dear Muzzie tums along
And sees w'at I haz done,
Poundin' with my Daddy's watch
Ter make it fasser run."
KOPPA AFTER PI
I've very little Latin and very little Greek
Stored away in my small brain, which yet is very weak,
But one thing I'll remember, I think until I die,
And that is that the KOPPA follows after Pi.
And mother says that perhaps this solves the very reason why
The "Kops" they follow after cooks well trained in baking pie.
THE PAST AND PRESENT EVE
Where is the maid of the long ago
Who stayed at home and knit?
And where is she who won her way
Having a fainting fit?
Where is the maid who sat all day
Waiting a lover to call
So she might wed and ride away
Unto his manor hall?
And where is she who always blushed
And giggled "Tee-hee-hee!"
Whene'er a noble "Adamite"
She even chanced to see?
Where is she with the wasp-like waist
And Chinese hobbling feet,
The maiden fair with light bleached hair
Who thought she was too sweet?
Where is the dame who left her babes
Unto a servant's care,
While she reposed or tried to make
Herself look wondrous fair?
And where is she who wouldn't vote
And did not care to know
Who guided this great ship of state
And saved it from the foe?
She's gone away to "Has-been-realms,"
And now we have instead
Our glorious type of womankind
Who forges fast ahead.
Our brothers who now make the laws
Of this great country fair,
'Tis they alone who power have
Their franchise rights to share.
I pray you show your chivalry,
Oh, all you worthy knights,
And vote for equal franchise laws,
Which are your sisters' rights!
MY IMPRESSIONS OF NEWSPAPER MEN
[_Written by request of a newspaper man._]
Newspaper men, so I believe,
Have tongues that roll around
As if well oiled with labial grease,
The slickest to be found.
Most of these men are very nice
And have a pleasant look,
But if I utter one wee word
They make it fill a book.
Some one has said that simple smiles
For length can't be surpassed;
Because there is a whole big mile
'Twixt letters first and last.
But I believe newspaper men
Can make words longer still,
With oceans rolling in between
Made out of little rills.
And as for questioning people
No Eves would dare compete
With skilful news reporters
In any question feat.
But of all men I most adore
Are these newspaper men,
And I would now most loudly cheer
THESE BRAVE KNIGHTS OF THE PEN.
PETER VISITS AN EPISCOPAL CHURCH
When Peter who was a country jake
A visit to a church did make
He sat with pleased look on his face
As if indeed in Heaven's place.
And after service when his Ma
Praised him aloud to his kind Pa
He said, "Of course I sat quite still
And watched the preacher's wives so ill
All dressed in nighties, though their hair
Was primped and curled as for a fair."
A GHOST STORY
On a dreadful stormy night
My dear Tommy had a fight
With great Peter Snookum Snee,
Cat of fighting pedigree.
In this battle, sad to tell,
My poor Tom, alas, he fell,
Ending thus his earthly life
Through the wicked God of Strife.
On the next night while in bed,
Sleepless and with aching head,
For my Tom, my precious pet,
My poor eyes with tears were wet.
Suddenly his voice I heard,
And in ghostly whispers purred,
"I am coming, mistress, dear,
Yes, 'tis true I'm very near.
"Good cat heaven have I left,
I would comfort you, bereft
For your precious Tommy pet,
I would teach you not to fret.
"Do you hear me in the hall
With my ghostly soft footfall?
Up the stairs I bound to thee,
Jumping steps from one to three.
"Now my paw is on your door,
I turn the knob one-two-three-four,
And you may see your Tommy now--
Me-ow! Me-ow! Me-ow! ow! ow!"
AN ESPERANTO POEM PLAIN TO ALL
Hundido krias--"Bow-wow-wow!"
Katido krias--"Meow-meow!"
Bovido krias--"Moo-moo-moo!"
Kolombo krias--"Coo-coo-coo!"
Shafido krias--"Baa-baa-baa!"
Infano krias--"Ma-ma-ma!"
THE WINDS OF MARCH
[_Awarded Gold Medal in April (1912) Issue of St. Nicholas Magazine._]
Last March, "Imp March Winds" teased me so, I had no peace of mind,
For when I took a little walk, these imps came close behind,
And plucked my hat from off my head and hurled it to the ground,
Or blew my handkerchief so far it never could be found.
So, thinking of the Tangu rug, I asked it to appear
And carry me away to Mars, where I need have no fear
Of being tortured by these imps who love to tease and tease,
And never let the big or small feel perfectly at ease.
Then on the magic rug I flew away up in the air,
And landed on the planet Mars. Alas, the imps were there!
And working greater havoc far than they had done on earth,
For 'twas indeed the warlike Mars that gave these bad imps birth.
A BACHELOR'S OPINION OF A BABY
Said Auntie to a bachelor--
"Do look at my fine boy!
Oh, isn't he a cunning dear--
His mother's greatest joy."
"Ah, really," said the bachelor,
While blushing rosy red,
"And can he sit on his hind legs
And beg when he is fed?"
MY COUNTRY
In this dear land we need not sigh
And fear as orphans we may die,
As long as we can look on high
And see the starry banner fly
Above the children passing by,
Who gaze above, salute and cry,
"MY COUNTRY!"
GREEDY IMPS
Nine goblins, ten witches, and bad imps galore
Danced round me last night and made me so sore.
They pricked and they stabbed, they stung and they clawed
At my poor "tum-tum," oh, my, how they gnawed.
I struggled against them while trembling with fear
And crying out loudly, "Oh, Mother, come here!"
Just like a good fairy she came to my aid
And made the bad goblins so quickly to fade
Away in the darkness of "I-know-not-where,"
I'm sure that no children would like to go there.
And as Mother petted my poor aching head
She looked at me sadly and softly she said,
"The imps you have seen came but at your call
As you were so greedy and ate nearly all
The rich candied cherries your uncle sent you
Instead of obeying and eating a few."
TO FRIENDS WHO REMEMBERED ME WHEN I WAS ILL
I thank you for the Fairies, you sent from KINDNESS BOWER,
Bearing healing messages through thought, or deed, or flower,
While wicked pains were troubling me and I felt very sad,
Your loving little messengers, they came and made me glad
By telling cheerful stories of flowering shrub and tree,
And driving through forgetfulness the horrid pains from me.
GREETINGS TO NORFOLK
Greetings to the city of my birth, Norfolk town,
Proud am I to claim this birthplace of renown,
In Virginia's realms whose glory antedates
That of all our country's other states.
ORIENTAL METAPHOR
Anysing just suits me,
Makes me happy be,
All I needs to trinkee
Is few leaves of tea
With a drop of water
No more than you meet
In ze little holelets
Made by chickens' feet.
And as to my eatin'
Weenty sings suffice,
All I needs for dinner
Iz a grain ob rice.
Oh, I eat so little
For my biggish size,
I'ze just like a hound dog
Only munchin' flies.
A TORPID LIVER 'SPLODED HIM
Johnnie's father's gone to Heaven
So his mother told my ma
Doctor said a torpid liver
Killed poor Johnnie's sickly pa.
'Spose it 'sploded and then shot him
Way up in the clouds above,
Where his pieces were united
By the angels' songs of love.
THE SOUL OF A MISER
'Tis said that the soul of a miserly man,
So small it becomes that any one can
Blow it right through a tiny round pill
Thence through the top of a humming bird's bill
Into the eye of a wee little bug,
Which wouldn't cause it to wink or to shrug.
LEARNING THE FRENCH ALPHABET
PROFESSOR GROS TO HIS PUPILS:
Répétez, s'il vous plaît,
Les bonnes lettres a, b, c.
MAÎTRE CORBEAU:
Non, ces lettres je n'aime pas,
Je crie seulement k-k-k.
PROFESSOR GROS:
Répétez, s'il vous plaît,
Les bonnes lettres, a, b, c.
MAÎTRE COCHON:
Non, non, non, je seulement dis
La jolie lettre i-i-i.
PROFESSOR GROS:
Répétez, s'il vous plaît,
Les bonnes lettres, a, b, c.
MÉCHANT GARCON:
Non, non, non, je seulement dis
La comique lettre j-j-j.
PROFESSOR GROS:
Répétez, s'il vous plaît,
Les bonnes lettres, a, b, c.
LA MÉCHANTE FILLETTE:
Non, non, non, pour faire bons mots
Je préfére la grande lettre O----
PROFESSOR GROS:
Répétez, s'il vous plaît,
Les bonnes lettres, a, b, c.
LA VIELLE FILLE: FRANÇAISE:
Non, non, non, je seulement sais
La douce bonne lettre t-t-t.
DANS MA MAISON