diff options
Diffstat (limited to '42392-0.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | 42392-0.txt | 2277 |
1 files changed, 2277 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/42392-0.txt b/42392-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0e2d7fc --- /dev/null +++ b/42392-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2277 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 42392 *** + +[Transcriber's Note: Superscripted text is surrounded by curly +brackets and preceded by a ^.] + + + +_The Jumble Book of Rhymes_ + +_Recited by the Jumbler_ + + + + +_The Jumble Book of Rhymes_ + +_Recited by The Jumbler_ + + +BY FRANK R. HEINE. + + _Illustrations by G. C. Cobb._ + _Cover Design by Jack Cooley._ + + HACKNEY & MOALE COMPANY, _Publishers_. + Asheville, North Carolina. + + Price $1.00 Net. + + + _Copyright, June, 1919._ + _By Frank R. Heine._ + + + + + "Many people read a song + Who will not read a sermon." + + + + +Foreword + + +PEGASUS _is a queer old nag, and many of his would-be riders find him +most unruly. We mount him and are off for a wee nip of Hippocrene. We +want him to lazy along like a plough horse, while we pluck daisies, but +he insists on demonstrating that, like a Hambletonian, he has all of the +High School gaits. And when we pass the Queen's carriage, expecting him +to step stately and look like a million dollars, the old plug stumbles +and limps, and is classed by all as a casual. So please, please blame +the horse--and not the rider._ + + + + +Dedication + + +_To the boys who have found the old War Horse a dangerous animal, have +come to cropper in the Big Muss, and are now assigned to bunk fatigue, +we offer these rhymes. Though, they are crippled; and limp, and halt, +and stumble at times--yet we trust they may, for all that, break through +when General Monotony is entertaining a company of Blue Devils, and for +a few moments, at least, put to rout serious and somber thoughts._ + +_To the casuals now enjoying hospital hospitality at Kenilworth +(Biltmore) and Oteen (Azalea), this jumble of rhymes is dedicated._ + +_Pick it up, Buddy, it's a dud._ + + --_F. R. H._ + + + + +THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES + + + + +[Illustration] + + + + +Greetings + +_A New Year Greeting in which the Jumbler hopes to meet you soon._ + + + My wish most dear for your New Year + I'm quite sincere in giving; + When next we meet, on Easy Street + I hope that you'll be living. + + P. S.--_And I hope I meet you soon._ + + + + +Introspection + +_The old nag_, PEGASUS, _invites the Jumbler to an introspective mood as +he lopes along. It is Thanksgiving, 1917._ + + + Am I thankful? + Let-me-see-- + World, Flesh, Devil + Good to me; + Friends still loyal, + Coin in banks-- + Stop this minute! + I'll give thanks. + + What of troubles + Lately past? + Well, at least they + Didn't last. + Not a single + Scar remains, + Nor remembrance + Of the pains. + + So, I'm thinking + That from me + There is due great + Gobs of glee. + Though a slacker, + From this day + I'll be grateful-- + Let us Pray! + + + + +[Illustration] + + + + +An Acknowledgment + +(From Him to Her). + +_The receipt of a gift he cannot label leads the Jumbler to recite:_ + + + I thank you for the hickeydee, + The thingamabob you sent; + The trickamadoo's the very thing + On which my heart was bent. + + The dofunny's style and color + Puts all dodads to shame; + The jiggermaree's the swellest thing + That ever bore that name. + + Appreciation's most sincere, + But I'll no longer lie-- + Pray be a sport and tell me quick: + What is the thing?--and why? + + + + +Pay! Pay!! Pay!!! + +_In which the Jumbler notes the profusion and the pertinacity of the +Pauls and the pitiful paucity of Peters._ + + + I'm daily robbing Peter for to pay + Old Mr. Paul; + I swear it's hard them both to + satisfy; + Pauls in legions me pursue, but the + Peters are so few-- + I lie awake at night and wonder why. + + The hope of every Peter is some day + to be a Paul. + Then little Peters must be set to + sprout. + Ev'ry chance of Paul for pay would + forever pass away + The day the tribe of Peter + petered out. + + + + +Taffy and the Man + +_As a member of the Taffy Consumers' League, the Jumbler offers this bit +of defence:_ + + + I have eaten grits and gravy in the Southland now and then, + I have lived on California's luscious fruits; + I've inhaled long-stringed spaghetti in Italia, and again + In the Klondike once I dined on cowhide boots. + + Of course I've supped at Rector's, at the Cecil, and the rest; + Tackled truffles and de foie gras in Paree; + I have bolted guava jelly and tortillas, Madrid's best, + And I've chop-sticked bird's-nest soup a la Chinee. + + But of all the palate-ticklers on the whole world's bill of fare, + Whether ladled out at morning, night or noon, + Not a gustatory stimulant that I know can compare + With a little dab of taffy on a spoon. + +[Illustration] + + If a man is grouched or peevish, if in doling cash he's slow-- + Just a little bit of taffy--presto! won!! + Every married woman knows it--every girlie ought to know: + If you feed a man of taffy he's undone. + + When a man tries introspection, then he stacks up mighty small; + So he keeps from this self-searching all he can; + Yet a feeling lies inherent, never's lost in him at all, + That he'd like to be a bigger, better man. + + So when other people tell him that he's bigger, nicer far, + Or a better chap than he himself can see, + There is worked a transformation and his stock goes way 'bove par, + And he feels the man he'd really like to be. + + It's not Vanity that does it, but his Better Self you view + As he smiles and purrs and pleases all he can. + As a corking good investment I would hand this tip to you: + Just try always feeding taffy to a man. + + Do not stinge nor be too saving, don't conserve this priceless boon, + But feed as though you had an endless store; + With an appetite voracious he will gulp it from the spoon, + And when all's gone he'll loudly cry for more. + + + + +Myself vs. Me + +_Some serious thoughts on the psychology of Respectability._ + + + My life is one long battle, + Between Myself and Me; + I see the right, yet do the wrong-- + This much too frequently. + + I have the foolish habit, + That oft brings me disgrace, + Of cutting off my Roman nose + To spite my ugly face. + + I'm daily robbing Peter + To pay Old Mister Paul-- + Though cosmos out of chaos + It never makes at all. + + I jump out of the skillet + Into the fire that's hot; + With fingers burned I dread the blaze. + But quit it? I guess not! + + And so goes on the battle + Between Myself and Me-- + Old Satan pulling fiercely 'gainst + Respectability? + +[Illustration] + + + + +To "The Quiet Observer" + +_An appreciation--wherein the Jumbler indites the following to the space +writer who quotes from him and Riley._ + + + I sat me down in pride to gloat + Upon the column that you wrote, + In which you, sir, were pleased to quote + From me and Riley-- + From me and him, + From me and Jim, + From me and Riley. + + The _tout ensemble_ did impel + My manly chest to heave and swell; + The combination "liked me well;" + Me, you and Riley. + It seemed a great + Triumvirate-- + ME, YOU and RILEY. + + But soon in deep humility + My head was bowed, and I could see + The difference 'tween little ^{me} + And You and Riley. + I lacked the art + To touch the heart + Like you and Riley. + + You seem to write with greatest ease, + Of cheerful mien, of birds and bees, + And out-of-doorsy things one sees-- + And so does Riley. + With master-stroke, + To common folk + Write you and Riley. + + I take a hack-saw and a square + And cut my rhymes with greatest care; + 'Tis harder work for me, I swear, + Than you and Riley. + And yet I fail + To hit the nail + Like you and Riley. + + You write in prose--a rhymer he-- + And yet 't has always seemed to me + Your souls alike must surely be-- + Yours, sir, and Riley's. + You love each thing + Of which you sing-- + Do you and Riley. + + + + +A bas Polyanna! + +_Wherein the Jumbler finds the Cheeruptimistic Lore a bore._ + + +I hate the Pollyanna cult! Cheeruptimistic lore, that now confronts at +every turn, long since became a bore. In daily press, in magazines, in +every thing I read, the sugar-coated life's prescribed as man's most +urgent need. 'Tis O be joyful, grin and smile, let tears be left unshed; +just purr and sing the whole day long, then pass it on ahead! If grandma +dies or cook takes leave or father breaks a leg, be glad, be glad; and +if you're broke, why, whistle as you beg! Now I, for one, refuse to live +a grinning Cheshire cat. I'm just as human, mad as glad--a fool can tell +you that. All sunshine makes a desert waste, and honey-words soon pall; +because someone's in harder luck can't make me glad at all. A man has +special muscles just to corrugate his brow; the Lord knew when he +fashioned them that they'd be used, and how. I want my friends without +veneer, straightforward as can be; and I will grant them outlet for +innate depravity. Why bluff and play that grief's not real? Why blush to +shed a tear? A temper may be lost and found, with Paradise still near. +No need to gloom or grouch or fret, no need to howl or whine; but may +the right to voice a grief or own a pain be mine. + + + + +If You'd Marry + +_Advice to wimmin "On Marriage," by the Jumbler._ + + +[Illustration] + + If the fish won't take your bait, + Do not tarry. + 'Twill never do to sit and wait, + If you'd marry. + Gather up your hook and line, + Somewhere 'round the water's fine; + Change your bait and keep on tryin'! + That's the system! + + Should one rise in reach of you, + Oh, be prayerful! + Take your gaff and run him through, + But be careful! + Hold him tight for all you're worth, + Of marryin' men there's now a dearth, + And then--there're widows still on earth!! + Curses on 'em! + + If a widow steals a beau + That you're landing, + Practice up a knock-out blow-- + Him demanding. + A perfect lady, though you've been, + Just you cave her features in! + Killin' widows ain't no sin-- + Never will be! + + + + +To My Valentine + +_The Jumbler, with one eye on the calendar, tells the thoughts he +thinks--claiming immunity the while._ + + + Saint Valentine, that good old gink, + Gives license free to say with ink + The things you feel, the thoughts you think. + + So timid youths, of courts afraid, + Select this day to tell a maid + Things otherwise best left unsaid. + + This custom all the judges know, + And breach-of-promise suits don't go-- + So that's "how comes" what's writ below: + + I love you, dear, to beat the Dutch! + I love you, dear, gosh-awful much! + Now could you love, obey--and such? + + With love my heart seems 'bout to burst-- + But I've now said all that I durst. + With love to all,--_John Safety First_. + +[Illustration] + + + + + _The Jumbler again mounts_ PEGASUS, _and carries us through the + Realm of Dreams, where we come in touch with the Life Romantic._ + + _The Jumbler recites:_ + + ALL MINE IN DREAMS. + + SHOULD DREAMS COME TRUE. + + LOTUS EATING. + + + + +All Mine in Dreams + +_The Jumbler, thinking of "The Little House," also thinks of a little +house-keeper._ + + + O little girl with wondrous eyes + And charms of Graces Three! + "How have you come, why have you come + To mean so much to me?" + Unrest within my heart you've raised-- + And yet, how sweet it seems! + My hopes, My dear, this much I know: + You're mine, all mine, in dreams. + + O little maid, dear, dearest maid, + Should you be lost to me + Were I to wake and straightway go + And tell my love to thee? + What powers or aid could I invoke? + Alas! dear one, it seems + The risk's too great of losing all-- + So mine still stay in dreams. + +[Illustration] + + + + +Should Dreams Come True + +_The Jumbler wakes up and credits himself with a big heart._ + + + This man, O girl with charms untold, + Has dreamed of Love and You; + And can it be somewhere's a land + Where these dreams may come true? + Ah, if there be, then willingly + To rainbow's end he'll go, + Or far's the place where seas begin-- + For, Girl, he loves you so! + + And he, dear one, a king can be-- + Yes, by one way alone: + That you, his Queen, through love for him, + Should raise him to your throne. + But whether he be king or serf, + Of this be sure: thou art + A mighty queen, whose realm is wide-- + You reign o'er all his heart. + + + + +Lotus Eating + + + In the land of In-a-minute, the land of Lots-of-time, + The land of What's-the-hurry? Manna-land sublime; + The land of Sleep-a-whole-lot,--to me it ofttimes seems + I sure should like to live there, for I'd have time for DREAMS. + +(_Here the Jumbler becomes personal_): + + Now I'd not waste a minute if I lived in that clime, + But say good-bye to worry, and dream--well all the time. + And what, dear, do you reckon my fancy'd bring to view? + The answer is so easy: Sweetheart, I'd dream of YOU. + + + + +Fergit Dem Dreams + +_Leaving the Realm of Dreams, the Jumbler quotes the advice of a married +friend._ + + + Aw, cut it, kid! Dis lovin' gag + Don't make no hit wid me; + I've went de route and ought ter know-- + Fer, ain't I married? Gee! + Dere's nuthin to it, foolish man; + None of 'em's what dey seems, + De game's a bunk, Kid, all way tru-- + Wake up, fergit dem dreams! + + + + + _Most earnestly the Jumbler presents his views on Serious + Matters pertaining to Love and Life._ + + FICKLENESS OF MAIDENS. + CONSTANCY--AS APPLIED TO ONE MAN. + THE ONE AND THE ONLY. + HANDLE WITH CARE. + MY GARDEN. + MY THRENODY. + ETERNITY. + + + + +Fickleness of Maidens + + + "Good-bye," I said to Mary, + To Margie, Maud and May; + And I put them from me harshly + And turned myself away. + For my _all in all_ was Maizie-- + I swore it on that day. + + But time came when my spirit + Grew weary of its pace, + And I cried, "Come back, dear ex-ones, + I'm sick of just one face!" + But they replied, "We cannot, + Another has your place." + + (_After Dunbar_) + +[Illustration:] + + + + +Constancy--As Applied to One Man + + + A man by Nature ne'er was meant + To love one maid alone-- + E'en if by doing so he'd gain + A seat upon a throne. + Polygamous when 'comes to love-- + (Be diff'rent no man can) + Monogony's monotony + When 'plied to love of man! + + Yet here am I! ('gainst Nature's law)-- + _Mirabile dictu_-- + Loving one maid, and just ONE (_sic_), + Exclusively and true! + As other men, I liv'd and lov'd + Until you came my way-- + Now all my love is yours, O Queen, + Forever and a day! + +[Illustration] + + Dear, dear dead loves, one last farewell! + Your graves no more I'll tend; + Your ghosts, whom I have welcomed oft, + Their visits now must end. + Sweet girls, whom I have lov'd--and lost-- + Loved? Yes, but for a day-- + I now have found my Queen of Hearts + Whom I can love alway. + + I once thought that I lov'd you well-- + But O! the love I feel + For my dear Queen is diff'rent quite-- + And it's the love that's real. + My Queen now has each thought, each dream; + No more I'll think of you-- + Love was, love's past for all save her-- + So, ex-loves all, adieu. + + + + +Handle With Care + + +The tangible always is frangible. (Proven long since, I take it). By +chance or by art you've taken hold of my heart-- But please, Little +Girl, don't break it! + + + + +The One and The Only + + + Hundreds of maids in this world have been born + With many a charm that allures, dear; + Hundreds are radiant, fair as the morn-- + But never were eyes just like yours dear. + + Hundreds boast beauty of form and of face, + Which always devotion assures, dear; + Hundreds personification of grace, + But none has a smile just like yours, dear. + +[Illustration] + + Hundreds accomplished in letters and song, + And hundreds attractive and clever; + Daily I walk through this limitless throng, + Yet find none compares with you--ever. + + If from these hundreds an artist should mould + A composite maid, near perfection; + Stand her beside you, to choose I be told-- + My dear, can't you guess my selection? + + Hundreds and millions of maids there may be, + And yet, without you I'd be lonely. + Pray be convinced, for I speak truthfully: + Dear, you are the ONE AND THE ONLY. + + + + +My Garden + + + I wander into my garden, + My garden of loves that are dead, + And stop at a withered rose bush + That once grew a blossom of red. + + How passionately, true I loved it, + Thought without it I could not abide-- + How bitter it is to remember + In a night it had withered and died. + + The violet that grew on the hillside + I loved with a love that was true; + But 'twas snatched from me e'en as I held it-- + O, Violet, dear, how I loved you! + + And dearest of all, the sweet June Rose, + As a bud she'd come out first that year; + But I lost her just as I'd plucked her-- + The heartless and pitiless dear! + + The lily and pink that I worshipped + Each deigned but a season to stay, + And returned not again though I waited + And longed for them many a day. + + Dear loves that are dead, hear me say it: + A loving good-bye to you all! + No more shall I visit this garden, + For my true love grows just o'er the wall. + + Having loved you has made my love stronger + For her whom I now so adore; + I'd truly not know how to love her + Had I not loved you-all before. + + Good-bye, then, again, fairest garden; + Good-bye to you all, fickle dears; + Dear Rosemary, last, fondest treasure, + Will be faithful to me through the years. + + + + +My Threnody + + + The Weatherman's in direst straits; + All wrong are his predictions; + Not Bright and Fair, but Drear and Cold-- + And so his maledictions. + +[Illustration] + + Now I can give the answer to + This scientific gent: + 'Tis not from meteoric change-- + But just 'cause SHE has went. + + I've read by hundreds love-stuff books, + But ne'er believed one bit + When sun was made to cease to shine + When "SHE" made her exit. + + But now I know that they were right; + From Sol no rays are sent; + It's dull and gray and dismal quite-- + And all 'cause SHE has went. + + I cannot read, nor write, nor think + Since SHE has went, Oh, dear! + Of compensation, though, there's heaps: + For, well, she once was here! + + So I'll not mind the fierce heart pain + That naught seems to allay. + She's went, ah me! but I shall hope + That she'll come back some day. + + + + +Eternity + + + She's coming-- + The woman I loved and lost! + Widowed at last and once more free. + One hand, two, or arms? Ah, me! + Our meeting, her greeting--.... + O what will it be? + + She's coming-- + The woman I loved--and love! + Long have I waited so hopelessly; + One year, all--yet faithfully. + Returning! I'm yearning.... + Be kind, gods, to me! + + Yes, coming! + O woman beloved of all, + Come to arms that still ache so for thee! + One age, two, ETERNITY + For loving, for LOVING + Awaits you and me. + + + + +INTERMISSION + + + + +A MEDLEY + +(_Rendered by the Jumbler during the Intermission_). + + + + +I 'Ear Noes + +_The Jumbler turns some anatomical terms._ + + + + The night has a thousand eyes, + The day to one lays claim; + The big brown pair that you, dear, wear + Sure puts them all to shame. + + It seems 'bout a thousand years + My heart you've trod in dust; + But lend an ear and listen, dear: + The end of waste is bust. + + Though I've heard a thousand noes-- + As someone knows is true-- + An aye once said, we'll soon be wed, + Or I'll be ever blue. + + + + +Ode to a Sylphine Figure + + + Thinner yet and thinner-- + I would be like thee. + I am nearly drowned in + Perspiration's sea. + From my adiposeness + I'd be set clear free-- + Though it means my joining + Broomstick cavalry. + + + + +Feelin' Blue + + + My nose is red, + I'm feeling blue! + If you had bawled + I guess so'd you ... be feelin' blue. + BECAUSE I Have Just Run Into a Nest of Crying Women. + + I went to a Niobe party, + Where all were expected to bawl; + There were peachy repiners and whiners in minors-- + Your "Uncle" wailed loudest of all. + +[Illustration] + + + + +A Bare Story + + + Nobody loves a man that's bald, + I've often heard it said; + But why does Love, then, laugh at locks?-- + It makes me scratch my head. + + + + +A Truth + + + A simple truth I give to you + To always recollect; + There is one thing--and that's Friendship-- + Will not thrive on neglect. + + + + +Hooverize + + + An order of Hoover's + I think is quite good; + "Don't feed your dear husband-- + But husband your food." + + + + +Fine + + + "It must be fine," the Sweet Thing cried, + "To write a poem like his'n." + "It should be fine," the man replied, + "Plus thirty days in prison." + + + + +Fugax, Sequax; Sequax, Fugax + + + Maids, they say, like shadows are: + (I wonder if it's true). + Follow, and they run away; + Retreat, they follow you! + + + + +A Betrayal of Irish Ancestry + + + If you ask my wish sincerest, + I will quickly make reply: + May you live--yes, live _forever_-- + And be happy till you die. + + + + +Exit Cooky + + + Our queasy queen of the cuisine + A queer, querulous creature has long been; + In her quite quiet way she quickly quit on Sunday-- + Quid est? Quid nunc? Why--quondam! + + + + +The Limit + + + Prissy, persnickety people there be, + Fastidious, finical ones, we see; + But the fussiest man in town by far, + Is he who washes his little Ford car. + + + + +Safety First + + + PROPINQUITY plus + PROXIMITY, plus + A little ENCOURAGEMENT, dear, + And havoc you'd play + With my heart. I'm away + To the umbrageous dingles, through fear. + + + + +Unbearable + + + Three things my nature cannot stand-- + I'll name them, if you please: + TEMPTATION and ENCOURAGEMENT; + NEGLECT's the worst of these. + + + + +Wrong Prescription + + + Tell me, please, sir, Mr. Captain-- + It's advice I'm lookin' fer-- + Is it true carbolic acid + Is good for cooties, sir? + + Are you serious, poor rookie, + Or are you making fun? + What you mention isn't _good_ at all-- + It _kills_ 'em every one. + + + + +Seeing Double + + + "Look twice before you leap, son," + My mother oft told me. + Each time I take a second look, + A second girl I see. + + The only thing that's better-- + You'll think me quite a dunce-- + Would be to have diplopia, + Then I'd see two at once. + + + + +Wisdom + + + Napoleon was a wise old guy; + A saying of his ran + Like this: "To all who would be safe, + Don't write, just send a man!" + + + + +Just Talk + +_Following the Intermission the Jumbler unravels the difference between +speech and talk and think and thought._ + + + From time an infant draws first breath + And 'gins its virgin squaking, + Each mother proud, not saving one, + Translates all goos as talking. + + This goo means this, a girr means that-- + A new word every minute-- + It yells! Says pa, "My dear, you're right, + There's surely something in it." (A pin, perhaps). + + Milk-Latin talk lasts 'bout a year, + And then, strict truth I'm telling, + A plain "Mam-ma" may strike your ear-- + In interim of yelling. + + The next few years great strides are made; + Mamma is fair ecstatic, + For now it talks as good as dad-- + 'Cept 'course, it's not grammatic. + + And then comes slang, and cussing, too-- + If it's a boy, the latter-- + But if a girl, the whole day through + It's giggle, chatter, chatter. + + And now it's grown, and still it talks! + But will somebody answer: + How much is said that tends to help + Despondent fellow-man, sir? + + And words of comfort, love and cheer + Are all not slow in giving? + Yet it's the joy we scatter here + That makes our lives worth living. + + From birth till death it's talk, talk, talk! + But listen, please, and ponder: + What would it mean if speech meant thought? + Who would be dumb, I wonder? + +[Illustration] + + + + +The Man Who Made Umph-ta-ta Smile + +_If to Heaven you would go--Smile._ + + + A god once was made and heathen had prayed + To him throughout many a year; + His face was distort with a frown of the sort + That gave them all quakings of fear. + The rulers in line, of whom there'd been nine, + Each published this royal decree: + _The man who'll beguile our fierce god to smile + May claim the King's crown as his fee_. + + From all the world o'er had come by the score + The jester, the fool and the clown; + With quip and with jest had each tried his best, + Yet not one displaced the god's frown. + Joe Miller and Twain had been quoted in vain, + (Each man as he failed was exiled.) + But failures all scored, the god still looked bored, + Then I appeared--and he smiled! + + When his visage had cleared, the heathen all cheered + And each wore a smile good to see; + With shouting and song they bore me along + Till straight to the King they'd brought me. + The King then stepped down, said + "Sir, here's my crown, + And gold you shall have by the pile, + But tell me, I pray, just what did you say + That made our god, Umph-ta-ta, smile?" + + "Your crown and your pelf, Sire, keep for yourself," + I said, "but pray listen to me: + I just made the trial--_a smile for a smile_-- + And succeeded, Good King, as you see. + Of pomp, Noble Sire, and of power I should tire, + And soon think them not worth my while, + Contented I'll be if 't can be said of me: + 'He's the man who makes everyone smile'. + + "Pray heed me, O King, a smile, Sire is the thing + That will win you a smile in return; + Just try it and see, and I'm sure you'll agree + 'Tis a thing that all people should learn. + Your wise pulpiteers may belabor your ears + With all the orthodox doctrines extant, + But if t' Heaven you'd go, then you might as well know + 'Nless you smile throughout life--well, you _can't_! + _There's nothing worth while can't be won with a smile_-- + A maxim you prove when you try-- + I must now be gone to pass the word on; + There're others who need it. Good-bye!" + + * * * * * + + My story you've heard--well, then, just one word:-- + Is anyone now within sight? + Just smile on him, do--why, _he's smiling at you_! + Your very first test proves I'm right. + + + + +Myself and Me + +_Unlike George Cohan, the Jumbler doesn't love himself._ + + + 'Tis torrid here and all have gone + To seashore on a trot; + I'm left alone, alas! and I'm + The only friend I've got. + + I've walked with me and talked with me + Until I'm satiate; + I'm sick and tired and bored with me; + The thought of me I hate. + + Divorce I'd have 'tween self and me; + For happiness I'd strike; + We're surely incompatible + 'Cause too darned much alike. + +[Illustration] + + + + +C'est la Guerre + +_After throwing his friends into fits, the Jumbler decides his +Soldier-French won't go._ + + + There are some folks, alas! I know + Who Fletcherize the calico + And pull out wads of hair + When now and then, as if by chance, + I lapse into the speech of France. + But--blame it on _la guerre_. + + My accent's not Parisian, yet + It's _tres bien_, so said Lizette-- + And surely she should know. + She never frowned and said _non, non!_ + But she would smile and say, "_Bon bon!_" + _Oui, oui_, I get you, Bo! + + _Jolie_ Jeanne plays the Marseillaise! + I ball myself in many ways + When this I try to say. + But _tres_, _merci_, _chere_, and _beaucoup_ + I say just like the Frenchies do-- + Admit it, _s'il vous plait_. + + Yet if each time I _parlez vous_ + These friends must throw a fit or two + And shock their systems so, + I think I'll stick to plain _Anglais_ + And say _adieu_ to all _Francais_-- + My Soldier-French won't go! + + + + + +Spring Styles + + + "Well, you may talk + Of woman's wiles + Of all these lat- + Est skinny styles; + Rave over girls + Built like a slat; + But I must say + I like 'em fat!" + + A girl that's fat? + Oh, no, no, No! + No lap, no waist + Nor high nor low; + An oozing mass + When weather's hot-- + You like this type? + Well, I do not! + + For me, a girl + That's sylph-like made, + Who's just the same + In sun or shade; + And as for me, + And I'm no churl, + Where there's no waist-- + Then there's no girl! + + No hefty bunch + Of av'rdupois, + No dray-horse girl + Shall share my joys; + But pocket-size, + A featherweight, + Will find me most + Affectionate. + +[Illustration] + + + + +Strictly Proper + + + Ol' Miss Propri'ty up an' say: + "Why will you chilluns ack this way? + Whenever I go out to walk + I see you two--an' people talk! + + "Miss Grundy says to me today: + 'They go to ride, an' _stay_ an' _stay_. + How come her pa don't take a hand + An' call 'em down to beat the band?' + + "I've tol' you time an' time again + A man should call but _now and then_, + Unless the priest has called the banns + An' date's been set for jinin' han's. + + "'Tain't proper, no, an' it ain't right + To call or ride mos' ev'ry night. + Hear now the last word that I'll say: + _You break my rules--then you must pay!_" + + Ol' Miss Propri'ty, who are you + That you should tell us what to do? + Your mammy was a prissy scold, + Yer dad a crabbed "sis," I'm told. + + You stick to rules your grandma 'ranged, + Despite the fac' that times have changed. + Propriety, Convention--these + Are how determined, if you please? + + Ol' Miss, if true I love this maid + Should I go slow and be afraid + Of what the neighbor-folk will say? + Nay, nay, a girl's not won that way! + + There're nine and ninety swains, they say, + Who'd steal this maid. If I make hay + I needs must work despite the fogs, + And though it's raining cats and dogs. + + Ol' Miss, if you could see her eyes + With laughter lit, or in surprise, + Or questioning, or looking grave, + Or beckoning--just hear me rave-- + + Could see the beauty of her face, + Her winsome ways, her lissom grace-- + Ah, Miss, your rules you'd cast aside + And daily beg, "Dear, please come ride." + + Then why not I? I'm human, too. + It's right for me if right for you. + You see I've got so much to say + I've _gotta_ see her ev'ry day. + + Ol' Miss she say, "My boy, you're right; + I now see things in diff'rent light. + My laws still rule the other guy, + But to your case they don't apply. + + So tell her _my_ permission's got + To call on her a nawful lot. + You've found me easy, have you lad? + All right, then try convincing DAD." + + + + + _In a versatile manner the Jumbler approaches sundry themes, + wherein is revealed his love for Home, Country and Eats._ + + 18 TO 45. + YOU NEVER CAN TELL. + AN OUNCE OF PREVENTION. + FEAR NOT. + EAT WHAT'S SET BEFORE YOU. + SHOW ME. + DAMFINO JONES. + SILENT BILL. + BUSTER BOY. + NOT FORGETTING DAD. + + + + +18 to 45 + +_The Jumbler found the niche in which he fit--for just one day._ + + + I'm something over eighteen, yet + I'm under forty-five! + I've no flat feet, no leaky valves, + No wife and babes alive. + So-- + With no dependent, no defect, + Not e'en a near-sight eye, + Methinks quite soon I'll hear you say: + "So long! Good luck! Good-bye!" + + My putteed calves will look a sight-- + I'm long, but short on weight-- + My feet won't fit the Munson last, + My rising hour is eight. + But-- + The army is gwine ter git me, + My name's done been enrolled. + I'd like to be a baby gal + Not more'n one year old! + + I'm old enough, I'm young enough + To do some thing, I guess; + So I'll just stop my foolish talk + And say, "I'm ready, yes!" + For + There's not a job, there's not a niche + But needs some man to fit. + For you and me there's just one thing: + GO IN AND DO OUR BIT! + + They found a job, they found the niche + They said that I would fit; + And in Argonne one foggy morn + They said, "Now do your bit!" + Wow! + Old Jerry seemed to know I'd come; + His shells all came my way! + Ugh! Mustard gas! * * * Then mustered out-- + I didn't last one day! + + + + +[Illustration] + + + + + +You Never Can Tell + + + Harry had two Munson feet + That grew like ice and snow + At bare suggestion of the thought + That he to War should go. + + But when the Draft got him one day + His face grew stern and grim; + And ere he'd been in camp a month + They'd made a _man_ of him. + + 'Twas "Captain Harry" soon in France. + Midst fighting over there + He got two wounds, a D. S. C., + Also the Croix de Guerre. + + The moral in this simple tale + You've guessed, I have no doubt: + _You cannot tell whats in a man + Until he's tested out._ + + + + +An Ounce of Prevention + + + When first the Flu our old town hit + I said I'd keep from getting; + So I went home and with great care + I shut out drafts and shut out air. + I sprinkled sulphur in my shoes, + Then loaded up on blockade booze, + Some calomel and "C.C." pills, + Then castor oil up to my gills. + Each hour on soda I did feast; + I swallowed cakes of Fleischmann's yeast; + I ate ten onions, mighty nigh, + Then drank a slug of Good Old Rye; + Some asafoet'da round my neck, + Then took quinine, about a peck. + To keep from feeling all forlorn + I fraternized with Barleycorn; + Then aspirin, say twenty grains, + And codeine to keep off pains. + I chewed tobacco, smoked it, too, + Then took a dip of Mountain Dew. + I crawled in bed to get a rest, + Vick's Vaporub smeared on my chest. + I changed to woolen underduds + And carried 'round two Irish spuds; + I sprayed and gargled, wore a mask, + Snuffed Listerine, then tried my flask. + I felt my pulse; at tongue a look, + And then my temper'ture I took. + But strange to say quite sick I grew-- + _The doctor says I've got the Flu!_ + I guess he's right, but this is sure: + Right now I need the likker cure. + + * * * * * + + I wonder if I'd stayed up town, + Cut out the dope, kept worry down, + Stayed right at work, not had a drink-- + Would I have Flu? What do you think? + + + + +[Illustration] + + + + +Fear Not + + + Why will so many people now + Give way to frenzied fear? + Why will they act as though they thought + Swift Death were lurking near? + + E'en if Disease now stalks abroad + And Death rides on the air, + 'Tis not the time for craven acts, + But courage everywhere. + + I wonder if they stop to think + How soon the war'd be won + If sons of theirs showed half the fear + That they of late have done? + + And why fear death--eternal life? + I would not be the one + To strive to stay on this poor earth + With sacred tasks undone. + + So, why not chirk up just a bit + And say good-bye to fear? + The world now needs much cheering up-- + Pray help supply the cheer. + + + + +Eat What's Set Before You + + + As children ofttimes we were wont + To criticise and fuss + About the victuals that were cooked + And served by ma to us: + "Too salty" this, and "too sweet" that; + "You've had this twice since Sunday; + You always have what others like, + You might please me just one day." + And so it went till pa would say:-- + 'Twas meant you could not doubt it-- + "Just eat what's set before you and + Say nothin' 'tall about it." + + Now we are grown and, seems to me, + Too often we're inclined + To criticise the things Fate gives, + And think this life a grind. + Some things may not just suit our taste, + Some e'en be quite unpleasant; + Someone may get the bigger share + And failure seem e'er present; + But then, let's think of pa's advice:-- + It's sound, pray never doubt it-- + "Just eat what's set before you and + Say nothin' 'tall about it." + + Life's road is rough--but what of that? + The man who'll growls forswear + Will top the hills ahead the crowd + All smiles, with breath to spare. + And so it goes this wide world o'er-- + 'Tis true for saint and sinner-- + The man who silently will "dig" + Will always prove the winner. + That's why I say take pa's advice:-- + Try once and you'll not doubt it-- + "Just eat what's set before you and + Say nothin' 'tall about it." + +[Illustration] + + + + +Show Me + + + There is a dame I know you know, + Who'll make big talk, will brag and blow + About the waffles that she makes, + Also her corn and buckwheat cakes-- + But always my cake's dough. + + She tells of this or that one who + At breakfast, once ate twenty-two! + And when she feared that he would bust + He raved and railed and almost cussed, + And said he wa'n't half through. + + I've hinted and I've begged this dame + To just for once treat me the same. + But always she the question begs, + Or's out of cream, or maybe eggs, + Or some excuse as lame. + + Yet here am I, so thin and pale, + While she, dear soul, is plump and hale. + If she's the best cook in the South, + Why let me stand with watering mouth?-- + She should be sent to jail! + + Now, I'm from out Missouri way, + Where "Please show me," is what they say. + I'm hungry and too weak to walk, + So "Please feed me, or stop your talk!" + I'll tell her this today. + + A pawfull and a mawfull I + Must have or else I fear I'll die. + Her talk does naught but aggravate; + It does not help my famished state + Nor hunger satisfy. + + Unless I get a waffle quick, + Unless I get it awful quick, + I'd better beat her up, I guess, + And mar her beauty more or less-- + Unless I get it quick! + +[Illustration] + + + + +Damfino Jones + + + Damfino Jones, a mental drone, + Had no opinion of his own; + He grew to manhood meek and mild, + But he was Indecision's child, + It was the same in weal or woe: + He "wasn't sure," or "didn't know." + In business he would hesitate + To buy or sell until too late; + So, naturally he ran in debt-- + But hasn't run back out as yet. + When asked when he a debt would pay + He "couldn't just exactly say." + In romance he just "couldn't just exactly say." + If he loved Blanche or Isabel-- + He married Jane, and, safe to say, + 'Twas she who kept the wolf at bay. + And with religion, mixed he got + When asked if orthodox or not. + In politics he'd weigh and weigh, + And then not vote on 'lection day. + And so he wavered till he died + And never did one thing decide. + Now I don't know, but it is said + He isn't now quite sure he's dead. + Take note of men who've made success: + They tell you "No" or tell you "Yes" + Right off the bat, nor step aside + When faced with questions to decide; + While men like Jones just paw the air + And never do get anywhere. + This truth shines out like bright new tin: + _Think for yourself if you would win_. + + + + +Silent Bill + + + I have a friend called "Silent Bill," + Aged ten, so says the Bible; + To me, in years, no word he's said-- + Strange truth and not base libel. + He seems quite bright, and sees and hears-- + In fact you'd think him normal; + But not a sound comes from his lips, + Not e'en to greeting formal. + + When he's at home, so I am told, + It's talk, talk, talk, and chatter; + When I'm around, why is he dumb? + Explain, what is the matter? + Am I an ogre fierce and wild + With looks and mien ferocious + That cause to cling unto its roof + The tongue of this precocious? + + "Oh, no!" says he, "you're not to blame." + (The answer comes by proxy.) + "The fault's not yours, but all guilt lies + With my dear mother, foxy. + I'd like to talk of lots of things-- + But ain't my ma the limit? + She starts her tongue--so what's the use? + I'm out, 'less I butt-in it." + + "It's 'seen not heard,' so I've been told, + Or else a strapping vi'lent. + I fear the gad, and that's why I + Remain still Bill-the-silent. + Now, when you scrap about her size + I'm mum, but try to figger + How she could squeeze in through the door + If she were any bigger." + + "But when she twits you 'bout the thatch + You've lost from off your attic, + I'd like to reprimand her then + In language quite emphatic. + I've waited long and ground my teeth, + And frowned upon her patter; + But I'm convinced she'll ne'er run down-- + She's stuffed with ceaseless chatter." + + * * * * * + + Dear Silent Bill, stay silent still; + To change, pray do not bother; + You're dearer far just as you are; + I'd true not have you other. + + + + +Buster Boy + +_The Jumbler, like Foss, loses a boy._ + + + I have a friend called "Buster"-- + A little child last Fall-- + But now he's grown so very big + I scarce know him at all. + Almost a man! His folks are proud + And fairly beam with joy; + But I--I feel I'd rather cry; + For I--I've lost my _boy_. + + No more he'll perch upon my knee + And ask me to relate + How Li Chi Fair and Chang-the-Good + Were saved from saddest fate. + And Jelly Jar and Big Black Bear + He'll treat with sneering scorn + And say, "Now please do stop and think + How long since I was born." + + Time flies so fast it takes my breath! + Soon he'll forget it all-- + The rhymes we wrote, the games we played, + None, none will he recall. + The world may praise him as a MAN-- + God knows I wish him joy-- + But I--I'll brush away a tear + And long for Buster _Boy_. + + + + +Not Forgetting Dad + + + A new kid's come to our house; + A peach, I'm here to tell; + And things are topsy-turvy like-- + Still--_Father's doing well_! + + 'Twas 3 A. M. this morning + That it began to squall; + Some neighbors got excited-- + But Dad wa'n't feased at all. + +[Illustration] + + Twas--oh, yes, quite expected-- + And welcome, I opine; + And bibs and socks and--things are made, + And--_Daddy's feeling fine_! + + Another Christmas present! + Gee, that's hard luck for fair! + The Old Man says, "Mere bagatelle, + Why should a fawther care?" + + How's Mother? Oh, she's so-so! + The Kid? Well, it will do. + Of Papa we are glad to state + That he will sure pull through. + + Then, here's a cheer for Mother; + One for the Kid we give; + Now ready--give a score of them: + _Doc says that Pa will live_! + + + + +Chromatic + + + We've got a nice red moo-cow-moo, + But doesn't seem just right. + She eats green grass the whole day through + Then gives us milk that's white. + + "Red cows, when on blue-grass are fed, + Give white milk." Is this true? + I am so green, when this I read + It straightway made me blue. + + +A FLARE BACK: + + We also, have a moo-cow-moo. + She isn't red, but black; + The milk she gives, it isn't white, + But blue,--alas, alack! + Methinks that _you'd_ be black and blue + Had you your due, young fellow; + But matters not the shade or hue, + Just so you're never yellow! + + + + +Enuf! + + + When "dis ol' waggin am done broke down," + I feel 'twould be a sin + To hold your love through Pity's sake + For what I once had been. + + "Yours till death!" is what they say; + But isn't it enough + To say, "Dear Girl, I sure am yours + Until the wheels fall off?" + + + + + _And here the Jumbler entertains the children with a few + Nursery rhymes:_ + + + THE EVENING BATH (Apartment Next Door). + THE DIRTY-NECK POLICEMAN AND THE BLACK-HAND. + DO YOU BELIEVE IN SANTA CLAUS? + SHAVING TIME. + THE BIG BLACK BEAR. + + + + +The Evening Bath + +(_Apartment Next Door_). + + + + I try to read--but really, what's the use? + You'd think, I swear, 'twas Bedlam broken loose; + A scream! And then I hear, "Oh mercy! Ouch! My ear! + I surely cannot stand all this abuse! + You're gouging me and pulling out my hair; + My skin's rubbed off--'tis more than I can bear! + Now really you're not heeding or you'd see my nose is bleeding! + I believe you would kill me if you dared!" + + I jump up from my chair and grab my gun; + I must be quick or murder will be done; + I rush across the hall and loudly 'gin to call: + "Unnatural parent, wouldst thou slay thy son?", + Upon the door I then begin to beat, + And straightway hear the scamper of bare feet; + Then "Mother" stood and laughed, said, "Surely you've gone daft-- + I'm only giving them their evening bath." + + She calmed herself and then she sweetly said, + "I always scrub 'em 'fore they go to bed; + But don't see why my daughter should have such fear of water; + And Buster,--why, it simply drives him mad! + I really don't see what I'm going to do, + Despite the fact it greatly worries you; + Of course it may seem mean but I'm going to keep them clean-- + And I don't know how unless I scrub 'em down." + + * * * * * + + So "Cleanliness is next to Godliness!" + It may be so; but really I confess + I'd let them go as black as night and look just like an awful fright-- + Unless the Gold Dust Twins'd do the work. + What matter, pray, if streaks run 'round the neck + And dirt be under nails, about a peck? + I'd rather, oh, yes, quite, that they were black than white-- + If I disturbed the town when bathing them. + +[Illustration] + + + + +The Dirty-Neck Policeman and the Black Hand + + + Oh, run! Oh, mercy, run! you little children, + Just as fast and quickly as you can! + For here comes the Dirty-Neck Policeman, + And I'm sure I see the Black-Hand man. + + So, scrub, scrub, scrub your little hannies, + And your necks, pray don't forget them, dears; + These men will surely get you if you're dirty; + They'll pay no attention to your tears. + + The Dirty-neck Policeman he jes' grabs you, + And if he finds your neck's not clean and white, + He carries you away in spite of begging, + And keeps you from your mother all that night! + + Next day his ugly wife gets soap and water, + And scrubs you with a great big curry-comb; + And if you cry she fills your mouth with soap-suds, + Till you promise you will keep clean when you get home. + +[Illustration] + + The Black-hand Man keeps hidin' 'round the corner, + A-lookin' at your knuckles and your nails; + And if they're dirty he jes' rushes at you + And grabs you with a hook--he never fails! + + And then he sits down on you when he's caught you, + Sandpapers you until you're bleedin', My! + And he jes' laughs and chuckles while he's working, + And rubs you all the harder if you cry! + + So it's best to keep quite clean, or you'll be sorry; + You never know just when you may get caught; + The Dirty-neck Policeman's mighty watchful, + And the Black-hand Man's a-hidin' 'round a lot! + + + + +Do You Believe in Santa Claus? + + + "Aw, youse kids make me orful tired, + Talkin' 'bout Sandy Claws! + Huh! Don'tcher know he's jest a fake, + And nothin' 'cept our pas? + + "When your ma tells you all this rot, + Don't believe her no more; + Get wise! I've watched and seen pa work-- + Dere bluffin' makes me sore." + + "O Jim! You shouldn't say such things!" + The rest intreated him, + "For if you do you'll make him mad, + And he'll forget you, Jim." + + "Of course Old Santa's sure-nuff true, + An' comes 'round every year + An' brings you things, if you are good-- + We think him just a dear. + + "The fairies, you'll be saying next, + Are make-believes also. + Just 'cause you're tough (our mas say so) + Is no sign that you know." + + Well, Christmas morning came, and Jim + His stockings rushed to see. + He took one look and then he cried, + "They're empty as can be!" + + But then he found, by hunting 'round, + A suit of underwear, + A tooth-brush and a handkerchief + Upon a kitchen chair. + + He cried and cried and then ran out-- + Was anxious so to see + If others in the neighborhood + Had fared the same as he. + + But Mary had a baby doll, + And Jamie had a sled; + Virginia had some roller skates, + An air-gun had small Fred. + + Besides, much candy they all had, + And lots and lots of toys + And things that Santa always brings + To real good girls and boys. + + "Now fellers, w'at's the answer, say? + I'm mad enough to swear! + I _needed_ skates--why did I _get_ + A suit of underwear? + + "It seems that you-uns ev'ry one + Has got most everything + That you have said for weeks you hoped + That Sandy Claws would bring." + + * * * * * + + The answer is, dear children: + Old Santa Claus don't doubt. + For if you do--the truth I tell-- + Like Jim, you'll be left out! + + + + +Shaving Time + + + When Dad gets out his safety + The family 'gin to quake; + They huddle 'round the doorway, + Nor dare the silence break. + + When Dad gets out his safety, + A hush falls on the air + And Fido runs to hide him + Beneath a friendly chair. + + Then Ma, she tiptoes gently + To fetch him water hot, + And lest he want for towels + She lays him out a lot. + + One of us goes for talcum, + And one for shaving soap; + Another gets witch hazel, + Cold cream and smelly dope. + + Then we withdraw us quickly + And watch him from afar; + A safety's mighty dang'rous-- + It wouldn't do to jar. + + With face all white and soapy + He scrapes his cheeks and chin; + The way he frowns and winces + It surely hurts like sin. + + But when the job is over + And Dad looks clean and young, + We all resume our breathing, + And songs of praise are sung. + + As Dad cleans up his safety + You ought to see him strut + And brag about how easy 'tis + His face to never cut. + + When Dad's put 'way his safety + He laughs with fiendish glee + To think the grasping barber + From him will get no fee. + + But ev'ry silver lining + Has dark clouds lurking near: + Tomorrow morn Dad's safety + Brings back our hour of fear. + + + + + +The Big Black Bear + + + Come, bear with me, I'll tell to you + Of Big Black Bears with children two; + Of Father Bear, too ready to dare, + And Mother, and the cross she bare. + 'Twas "Cinnabar" and "Blackberry" that Pa Bear his children named; + But simply "Bairns" was nicer far, the mother stoutly claimed. + A lively time these children had, of pleasures had no lack; + The thing that tickled them the most was bareback pick-a-pack. + This man Bear was, oh! so wicked and sly, + He'd steal and then tell you a barefaced lie; + The older he grew the more he would fight-- + Stuck on himself 'cause he could read and write. + + This Big Black Bear was a grouchy bear, + And a cross old bear was he; + He snapped and clawed and bristled and pawed + And growled ferociously! + This Big Black Bear broke open the door + And walked right into the groc'ry store; + He ate all the sugar, he ate all the ham, + And left not a cent for the groc'ryman. + He wrapped up honey and choice candies + And he then left a note: "Just charge 'em, please; + I'm gaunt and sore, I've come a distance, + And take enough for bare existence." + + The grocer, next morn, collected some men + And tracked the foot-prints right up to the den; + The Cubs, when they came, were out all alone, + But raced through cubbyholes cut in the stone. + The Bears laid low, kept out of sight, + Cubs snuggled down like it was night. + "All right," said the men, "we'll sure get you yet!" + And then went to work a big trap to set. + They got it all fixed and placed on the ground, + And then lots of honey scattered around; + And then, lest some traveler its sight should miss, + They nailed up a sign that looked just like this: + +[Illustration: BEWARE FORBEAR] + + As soon as they had gone quite a while + Old Pa Bear sneaked out, then called with a smile; + "Come out, hustle up, there's nothing to fear; + There's honey enough for all of us here!" + "To me," says Ma, "this thing spells ruin; + I feel that there is trouble brewin'!" + "Tut, tut!" says Pa, "just like a fool! + 'Tis plain you never went to school. + If you could read you'd plainly see + That this was sent a gift to me. + 'Bee-ware' is honey, surely you know; + And 'For-Bear' is what it says below. + Now cubbies, you see how much you need + To learn right soon to write and to read. + So study real hard, become a power-- + A Cub reporter, some day, or maybe the bar." + "Dip in," said he, "la, la it's swell!" + And then let out an awful yell!!---- + For the trap had sprung and caught him fair---- + The fam'ly quickly ran to the lair. + Then ping!! crack!! crack!! a loud report!! + "All in!" cried they, "Oh, my, what sport!" + They skinned him and carried away the dead; + But not a pall-bearer once bared his head. + On this Bear's sad end the grocer oft does gloat-- + What's now left of Pa is a big winter coat. + When the weather's cold (not immodest nor sin) + The Grocer comes forth just in his bear skin. + The Cubs, thus bereft, were frightened quite, + They sobbed and they cried with all of their might. + "Come, Bairns," said Ma, "let's off to the wood; + I'll get you a new pa who'll do as Bears should." + She did it and made a most excellent wife, + And all are now living the happiest life. + + + + + +Missing You + +_Impelled by lonesomeness, the Jumbler is inspired to this bit of +sentimental rhyme._ + + + Feeling mighty lonely; + Yes, getting pow'ful blue; + Dearie, here's the answer: + I'm missing, missing you. + + Rain beats 'gainst the window, + Or skies are bright and blue; + Doesn't seem to matter-- + I'm missing, missing you. + + Days are long and tiresome, + And nights seem endless, too; + Slumber is a stranger-- + I'm missing, missing you. + + Writing rhyme is easy, + 'Bout all that I can do; + Ev'ry word in English + Now wants to rhyme with _You_. + + If I thought, my dearie, + That you missed me, too, + I should then be happy + In missing, missing you. + + Joy lives close to Sadness, + The steps are short and few: + Changing just one letter + Makes "_missing_" "_kissing_" you. + + +[Illustration] + + + + +INDEX + + + PAGE + + Greetings 9 + + Introspection 10 + + An Acknowledgment 11 + + Pay! Pay!! Pay!! 12 + + Taffy and the Man 13 + + Myself _vs._ Me 15 + + To "The Quiet Observer" 16 + + A bas Polyanna 18 + + If You'd Marry 19 + + To My Valentine 20 + + All Mine in Dreams 22 + + Should Dreams Come True 23 + + Lotus Eating 24 + + Fergit Dem Dreams 25 + + Fickleness of Maidens 28 + + Constancy--As Applied to One Man 29 + + Handle With Care 30 + + The One and the Only 31 + + My Garden 33 + + My Threnody 35 + + Eternity 36 + + A MEDLEY: + I, 'Ear, Noes 38 + Ode to a Sylphine Figure 38 + Feelin' Blue 39 + A Bare Story 39 + A Truth 40 + Hooverize 40 + Fine 40 + Fugax, Sequax; Sequax, Fugax 41 + A Betrayal of Irish Ancestry 41 + Exit Cooky 41 + The Limit 41 + Safety First 42 + Unbearable 42 + Wrong Prescription 42 + Seeing Double 43 + Wisdom 43 + + Just Talk 44 + + The Man Who Made Umph-ta-ta Smile 46 + + Myself and Me 49 + + C'est la Guerre 50 + + Spring Styles 51 + + Strictly Proper 53 + + 18 to 45 56 + + You Never Can Tell 58 + + An Ounce of Prevention 59 + + Fear Not 61 + + Eat What's Set Before You 62 + + Show Me 64 + + Damfino Jones 66 + + Silent Bill 68 + + Buster Boy 70 + + Not Forgetting Dad 71 + + Chromatic 73 + + Enuf! 74 + + The Evening Bath 76 + + The Dirty-Neck Policeman and the Black Hand 78 + + Do You Believe in Santa Claus? 80 + + Shaving Time 82 + + The Big Black Bear 84 + + Missing You 87 + + * * * * * + +Transcriber's Notes: + +Varied hyphenation was retained except where noted below, for example, +"Black Hand" and "Black-Hand" which appears twice in each form. Obvious +punctuation errors repaired. + +Page 38, "litsen" changed to "listen" (an ear and listen) + +Page 70, line "None, none will he recall." was indented to match rest of +poem's layout. + +Index, hyphen added to "Dirty-Neck" to match the text's usage (The +Dirty-Neck Policeman) + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Jumble Book of Rhymes, by Frank R. Heine + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 42392 *** |