Author of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, The Boy Fortune Hunters in the Yucatan, Daughters of Destiny, etc.
Originally published in the Quincy (Illinois) Daily Herald, December 3, 1903.
FRANK BAUM
FATHER GOOSE
SOME JINGLES ABOUT PROMINENT QUINCYANS.
Their Fads and Foibles Made the Themes of Puns by the Jolly Author of “The Wizard of Oz” and Other Bits of Nonsense.
A BOLD MAN.
There lives a young fellow named Bowles
Who ten-pins remarkably rolls;
When he misses a pin
All the boys give a grin
And say: “Ain’t it queer how Bowles bowls?”
POST-MERIDIAN.
Do you know what Dave Wilcox is after?
It isn’t the sun or the moon—
He doesn’t want them,
But, being P. M.,
Dave is certainly after-noon!
ALSO LYNX-EYED.
Georgie Stahl delights to play
On the golf-links every day;
When he drives he walks, they say—
Isn’t that a funny way?
A FAST FRIEND.
Good Doctor Schmidt
He has a fidt
When any team by him does flidt;
But he don’t quidt,
For he has gridt
And drives like Texas, all admidt!
PALETTE-ABLE.
Georgie Lyford thinks that art
Is of life the better part.
If you’d know just what he means
Watch him eating pork and beans!
“PLAY-DAZE.”
Little Charley Dazey
Sets the people crazy
With his “Old Kentuck” and other plays.
If he keeps a-going,
With his present showing
Dazey’ll be a daisy all his days!
DELSARTIAN.
Jim Adams lives in Quincy Town
And he is wond’rous wise;
He does a cake-walk every day
For proper exercise.
QUIXOTIC—EXOTIC.
Gene Chubbuck has a pretty plant
Which always blooms by night;
Its blossoms are extravagant
Though very gay and bright.
Gene think [sic] this plant will always be
The “only one” there is;
I wonder if we’ll ever see
Another plant like his?
HANDS UP!
Oh, Uncle Dick—Dick McAfee!—
You’re very slick, as all can see!
At whist or cribbage, skat or chess
You win the cookstove, we confess!
NEIGHBORLY.
Ed. Botsford is a merry elf—
(When ev’rything all well is.)
He loves his neighbors as himself—
(Especially Jack Ellis!)
A STIFF PROPOSTION.
Ben Bartlett won a grave renown
By covering his “lies,”
Yet he’s the last man in the town
The people patronize.
POPULAR COON SONG.
Doan tell yo’ fam’ly secrets
To Harry Charles or Sid,
Or let ’em know yo’ troubles
Or what yo’ bes’ gal did.
Yo’ bettah min’ yo’ p’s an’ q’s
An’ find what yo’s about—
For de “Optic’s” gwine to git yo’
Ef
yo’
doan’
watch
out!
FOREIGN DIPLOMACY.
Jack Guinan has a love for Poles
And “(w)hoops ’em up” in style.
They may be rough, but he controls
The rascals all the while.
IMPROPER.
If any dash would proper be
‘Twould not be one that starts with “d—,”
And yet if Dashwood this should hear
He’d bellow like a Texas steer!
Originally published in the Philadelphia Public Ledger, July 15, 1917.
A Surprising Supposyville Happening
My goody two shoes! What is all
The fuss and noise about?
A fire, I ’spose—for everybody
In the town is out.
The couriers ride up and down
And make no end of clatter—
What in the world has happened,
And whatever is the matter?
“To the orchards, lads and lassies!”
The bugle each one stirs,
The tardiest obeys the summons—
“Come, Dames, and Hark ye, Sirs!”
The messengers call shrilly—“Hurry!
Bring the baskets—ladders, too,
To the orchards! To the orchards!
His Highness bids us summon you!”
Out o’ doors they all come tumbling,
Running from the east and west,
Some in overalls and aprons,
Some in silks and velvet dressed,
Dragging ladders, bearing baskets,
Lighting lanterns as they ran—
No one thought to stop or question
This surprising night-time plan!
Breathlessly they reached the orchard,
Mounted on a box, the King
Pointed to the threatening storm clouds,
While around him in a ring
To listen, the good Supposies crowd
“Save the peaches! Save the peaches!
Let us pick with might and main—
‘Twon’t be long before it reaches
US—this storm—let’s beat the rain!”
Chuckling with determination,
They hung their lanterns on the trees;
Down like magic drop the peaches—
Never were such folks as these!
In an hour not one hung there,
Not a single peach was skipped,
And the first gusts of the windstorm
Found the orchard wholly stripped.
Into barrows went the baskets,
And right merrily they ran
Trundling homeward with the peach crop
As the pelting rain began.
With their peaches safely stored
What cared they how hard it poured?
If we all could work together
Like they do, I think we’d find
Lot of troubles and misfortunes
And disasters left behind!
My goody two shoes! What is all
The fuss and noise about?
A fire, I ’spose—for everybody
In the town is out.
The couriers ride up and down
And make no end of clatter—
What in the world has happened,
And whatever is the matter?
“To the orchards, lads and lassies!”
The bugle each one stirs,
The tardiest obeys the summons—
“Come, Dames, and Hark ye, Sirs!”
The messengers call shrilly—“Hurry!
Bring the baskets—ladders, too,
To the orchards! To the orchards!
His Highness bids us summon you!”
Out o’ doors they all come tumbling,
Running from the east and west,
Some in overalls and aprons,
Some in silks and velvet dressed,
Dragging ladders, bearing baskets,
Lighting lanterns as they ran—
No one thought to stop or question
This surprising night-time plan!
Breathlessly they reached the orchard,
Mounted on a box, the King
Pointed to the threatening storm clouds,
While around him in a ring
To listen, the good Supposies crowd
“Save the peaches! Save the peaches!
Let us pick with might and main—
‘Twon’t be long before it reaches
US—this storm—let’s beat the rain!”
Chuckling with determination,
They hung their lanterns on the trees;
Down like magic drop the peaches—
Never were such folks as these!
In an hour not one hung there,
Not a single peach was skipped,
And the first gusts of the windstorm
Found the orchard wholly stripped.
Into barrows went the baskets,
And right merrily they ran
Trundling homeward with the peach crop
As the pelting rain began.
With their peaches safely stored
What cared they how hard it poured?
If we all could work together
Like they do, I think we’d find
Lot of troubles and misfortunes
And disasters left behind!
Copyright © 2020 Eric Shanower and David Maxine. All rights reserved.
