oi6i:e: d3s 
 
'^nb 3 Ions for ti)t bear olb riticr' 
 
The Hard Times Edition 
 
 By 
 
 The Bard of Camill 
 
 Stokes Walton, Author and Proprietor 
 Montgomery, Alabama, U. S. A. 
 
1^63545 
 
 Copyright 1910, by Stokes Walton 
 
 PARAGON PRESS 
 
 ©CLA271345 
 

 A Collection of Poetry and Prose 
 
 From 
 
 My Old Scrap Book 
 
 by 
 trfte igarb of CamiU 
 
"I am tired of planning and toiling" 
 
 In the crowded hives of men, 
 Heart - weary of building and spoiling, 
 
 And spoiling and building again ; 
 And I long for the dear old river 
 
 Where I whiled my youth away, 
 For a dreamer lives forever 
 
 And a toiler dies in a day. 
 
 — John Boyle O'Reilly. 
 
DEDICATION. 
 
 This Little Volume Is Respectfully 
 Dedicated To The Shade Of My Noble 
 Ancestor, Izaak Walton, Whose Love 
 For Streams And Fishing Were The 
 Same As Mine. 
 
preface 
 
 To the readers of this little booklet I beg to say, that 
 this is my first effort to acquaint the world that I had 
 any thoughts of this kind and I feel like one who has 
 wandered long in the darkness of night and at last 
 catches a glimpse of the gray dawn. 
 
 Whether I will ever live to see it brighten into beau- 
 tiful sunlight I cannot say as none but The Great Cre- 
 ator of minds can know and He will not tell. 
 
 However, if I have even written one line or offered 
 one suggestion to men that may lead to a better mode 
 of existence I shall feel fully repaid for all of my efforts. 
 
 As to my poems I must say that they are real and the 
 heroines are now living who charmed my mind and heart 
 into writing them. The Stolen Swamp Kiss is also real 
 but I was only ten years old when this happened. I 
 had just woven a garland of beautiful wild flowers for 
 her and placed it upon her head and it made her look 
 so lovely that I had to let my heart have its way. Alas; 
 Alas ; the garland she now wears is no earthly garland. 
 
 With much love and respect I beg to remain your hum- 
 ble servant, 
 
 THE BARD OF CAMILL. 
 
 F 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 To My Musical Unfortunate Sisters 13 
 
 A Sweet Little Rosebud thou are (Illustration) 14 
 
 To Claude. 15 
 
 To My Rosebud 15 
 
 The Stolen Swamp Kiss 15 
 
 An Acrostic 16 
 
 To My Sweetheart _ 16 
 
 The Evening Ride 17 
 
 To Virgilene 18 
 
 Old Sayings 19 
 
 Rules For Health 20 
 
 Beautiful Stars 21 
 
 My Little Footstool 21 
 
 Meditation _ _ 22 
 
 Shall We Look Mournfully On .22 
 
 The Dying Request of the Bard of Camill .....22 
 
 A Christian Bud (Illustration) ...23 
 
 Creed 24 
 
 The Sign of the Clover Leaf 25 
 
 Hoarding and Saving .28 
 
 Negro's or Our Own Blood, Which? .....32 
 
 Familiar Sayings .35 
 
 The Old Seaboard 42 
 
 A Letter from the Dead 43 
 
 The Father of Lies 44 
 
 Come Let us Reason Together 45 
 
 Poem on Paper 47 
 
 Tobacco 51 
 
 Is This Where the Dead Folks Live? ...52 
 
 The Rain Crow 53 
 
 Montgomery the Fig Tree City 54 
 
 Why She Threw Her Love Light at Me 55 
 
 Lines from An Old Bachelor 56 
 
 When the Love-light is Shining 57 
 
 "Soon We'll Reach the Shining River" (Illustration) 58 
 
A Collection of Poetry and Prose 13 
 
 TO MY MUSICAL UNFORTUNATE SISTERS. 
 
 Dearest Sister: 
 
 Thy music hath touched my heart, 
 
 And thrilled into existence once again 
 
 My old inspiration; 
 
 Altho poor now in worldly goods 
 
 Yet me-thinks the day not far distant 
 
 When fortune will smile; 
 
 Then I shall remember thee and thy musical sisters, 
 
 Then will I build a beautiful Villa; 
 
 A lovely place of rest 
 
 Where thou canst dwell at peace 
 
 When tired of this rude world, 
 
 For verily its rudeness has sweetened your lives. 
 
 This villa shall be built near the spot 
 
 On the river side 
 
 From whence I saw in a dream or nightly vision 
 
 My sainted mother ascend; 
 
 And the windows of the music room 
 
 Shall open out upon the stream where she left me, 
 
 And every day at eveningtide 
 
 As Phoebus is painting red the Western v/all 
 
 Thou shalt go there and touch the tender cords of melody 
 
 And as the sweetest strains are breaking softly. 
 
 Commingling with the rippling water, 
 
 I shall descend into my light canoe 
 
 And steer into, and feast on those echoes divine. 
 
'A SWEET LITTLE ROSEBUD THOU ART" 
 
A Collection of Poetry and Prose 15 
 
 TO CLAUDE. 
 
 As she awoke into musical life 
 
 The silence of ecening 
 
 With those pretty and nimble little fingers, 
 
 A feeling of heavenly rapture stole over me, 
 
 Bringing thoughts of Cherubim and Seraphim; 
 
 And harps with thousand strings. 
 
 Dedicated to precious little Claude 
 
 And written while in her almost infancy. 
 
 TO MY ROSEBUD. 
 
 A sweet little rosebud thou art, 
 A planet just merged into sight, 
 A choice little flower from Eden, 
 A dove in heavenly flight. 
 
 Dedicated to Miss D. B. 
 By The Bard of Camill. 
 
 THE STOLEN SWAMP KISS. 
 
 Kiss me little girl 
 
 Tho the heart of the world 
 
 Beat nay; 
 Why I love you little girl 
 And my brain's all in a whirl, 
 
 I can't say. 
 
 Kiss me little girl, 
 The trees in the world 
 
 Can't see; 
 Why I want to, little girl 
 I can't answer in this world. 
 
 Can we? 
 
16 The Hard Times Edition. 
 
 AN ACROSTIC. 
 Memory shall know no sweeter theme than thou dearest 
 
 one 
 
 Altho far away on the world's wild dream I be driven ; 
 
 Ridged or smooth tho it be 
 
 Your precious spirit shall guide me. 
 
 Perhaps thou hast already forgotten him 
 
 On your distant journey mong'st strangers; 
 
 No; No; I'll never believe it, 
 
 Death, only death can separate our heart's devotion. 
 
 TO MY SWEETHEART. 
 
 Fair love of mine, at day's decline 
 
 What raptures there to meet you, 
 Where the flowers bloom in that garden of thine, 
 
 In the last rays of sunset hue. 
 
 When I fondly gaze in those starlit eyes, 
 
 I imagine two beacon lights bright 
 Are leading me home from stormy skies; 
 
 And welcoming my footsteps from night. 
 
 In accents sweet your voice flows on 
 
 Like ripples of clear running brooks 
 Banishes all care, and where hopes have flown. 
 
 Puts a balm in the vacant nooks. 
 
 Your hair is like the sunset's gold 
 
 In one rich profusive wave, 
 Falls gracefully from a head of most delicate mould, 
 
 That would cause all the poets to rave. 
 
 Darling whenever I think of thee. 
 
 With new life my soul is imbued. 
 Sweet hope returns, while my bosom burns 
 
 With ardent affection renewed. 
 
A Collection of Poetry and Prose 17 
 
 THE EVENING RIDE. 
 
 How pleasant on yesterday was our ride, 
 
 Cousin Belle and I in the evening-tide; 
 
 All nature seemed filled with love 
 
 From the earth around to the heaven above. 
 
 The sun so gently rolled away 
 
 Taking with him all the day, 
 
 But gave us a picture rich and rare 
 
 Before he left the hillside fair. 
 
 And this is the panorama it showed 
 
 While we thru the Autumn forest bored; 
 
 He lighted up the West with gold, 
 
 Tinging all with colors bold; 
 
 Fastened his beams to the slender pines, 
 
 Touched up the undergrowth and vines; 
 
 Blended all in one glittering mass 
 
 With the waving fields of weeds and grass. 
 
 TO MY ONLY LOVE. 
 
 Good bye sweet M — 
 
 My life hangs on threads of pain; 
 
 And all I once loved 
 
 Is now one confused mass of sunshine. 
 
 But sweet M — 
 
 I repeat the name because I love it, 
 
 I think it so strange 
 
 That God should create a man 
 
 To love a woman 
 
 And that woman love not him. 
 
 I trust my God 
 
 And doubt him not, 
 
 But ; Oh : how mysterious are all his ways. 
 
 ON BEING SNUBBED BY ''HER RAVEN LOCKS.' 
 
 My love she has her raven locks 
 And she's mighty atp to keep them. 
 No man she wants' his love she taunts, 
 And calls him naughty thing. 
 
18 The Hard Times Edition. 
 
 TO VIRGILENE. 
 
 What a vision of beauty stole o'er me 
 When Virgilene passed down the street, 
 
 I was sure that an angel was near me, 
 
 Earth changed to heaven neath her feet. 
 
 What was it in her soft eyes of blue 
 When Virgilene passed down the street 
 
 That ravished my old heart in two. 
 
 And brought back my "old love retreat." 
 
 What a sweet pleasant smile on her lips 
 When Virgilene passed down the street 
 
 A scattering sunbeams like chips, 
 And turning all bitters to sweet. 
 
 What a fragrance left she in her wake 
 When Virgilene passed down the street 
 
 Like the waves of the cane in the brake, 
 So graceful so grand, so complete. 
 
 Oh, Virgilene thou lookedst a queen 
 
 When passing down the street. 
 The loveliest one ever seen. 
 
 With charms and with power replete. 
 
 Some people write to be read, 
 While others are ready to write. 
 
 Some wait Oh, alas till we are dead 
 To scratch us a line of delight. 
 
 And so while thou art living and fair 
 I'll drop you these lines of esteem, 
 
 To encourage and brighten your career 
 
 On this earth, as you pass down its stream. 
 
 Dedicated to Miss Virgilene B. 
 By The Bard of Camill. 
 
A Collection of Poetry and Prose 19 
 
 OLD SAYINGS. 
 
 As poor as a church mouse 
 
 As thin as a rail, 
 As fat as a porpoise 
 
 As rough as a gale. 
 As brave as a lion 
 
 As spry as a cat, 
 As bright as a sixpence 
 As weak as a rat. 
 
 As proud as a peacock 
 
 As sly as a fox. 
 As mad as a March hare 
 
 As strong as an ox. 
 As fair as a lily 
 
 As empty as air, 
 Afe rich as Croesus 
 
 As cross as a bear. 
 
 As pure as an angel 
 
 As neat as a pin, 
 As smart as a steeltrap 
 
 As ugly as sin. 
 As dead as a door nail 
 
 As white as a sheet, 
 As flat as a pancake 
 
 As red as a beet. 
 
 As round as an apple 
 
 As black as your hat. 
 As brown as a berry 
 
 As blind as a bat. 
 As mean as a miser 
 
 As full as a tick. 
 As plump as a partridge, 
 
 As sharp as a stick. 
 
20 The Hard Times Edition. 
 
 As clean as a penny 
 
 As dark as a pall, 
 As hard as a grindstone 
 
 As bitter as gall. 
 As fine as a fiddle 
 
 As clear as a bell, 
 As dry as a herring 
 
 As deep as a well. 
 
 As light as a feather 
 
 As hard as a rock, 
 As stiff as a poker 
 
 As calm as a clock. 
 As green as a gosling 
 
 As brisk as a bee. 
 And now let me stop 
 
 Lest you weary of me. 
 
 Rules of health which I gave to a merchant friend who 
 was fast becoming a slave to his appetite, his cigar, his 
 dram and the blues. 
 
 Take oil for the blues, whenever you choose, 
 
 When trade is dull take a bottle full. 
 
 It's your liver I'm afraid and not dull trade 
 
 That makes the world's hue, unto you, appear blue; 
 
 What I think best, give your jaws a rest, 
 
 Don't eat so much, eat regular and such; 
 
 Don't smoke all the time, take care of the slime 
 
 That aids digestion and brings to thee ease. 
 
 Don't sleep in a breeze and don't get on sprees. 
 
A Collection of Poetry and Prose 21 
 
 BEAUTIFUL STARS. 
 
 Beautiful stars that hang so bright 
 
 Upon the heavens and shed your light 
 
 On all, the wicked and the good 
 
 Of every race, and field and wood, 
 
 Hill and dale, forest flower 
 
 And many a nook and lover's bower. 
 
 Ejects yourselves in the broad bosomed lake, 
 
 Each streamlet a part of your glory take. 
 
 At every twinkle you seem more bright 
 
 And the darkness seems to leave the night. 
 
 The nightengale from yon heather flies 
 
 To catch a glimpse of your luminous eyes. 
 
 Heavenly planets, away up in the skies 
 
 Doth not your beams touch paradise? 
 
 And does not your silver ray 
 
 Help luminate the realms of endless day? 
 
 Ah, yes; you seem to say, 
 
 Follow me, come from earth away; 
 
 Come up from the vile things of earth 
 
 Where all is joy and all is mirth: 
 
 Come from the busy haunts of men 
 
 To where the glories never end. 
 
 MY LITTLE FOOT STOOL. 
 
 In memory of a deceased lady friend who made it for 
 me, Mrs. Kate Freeman, of Camilla, Ga. 
 
 When I rest my weary feet upon my little foot-stool 
 
 I think of thee, dear departed friend, 
 
 And when I see the many stitches it took to make it 
 
 I can fancy I see the needle dart here and there 
 
 Thru the silken cloth, 
 
 Guided by your nimble fingers and the snow white hand 
 
 Now so cold and still. 
 
 The little scraps of various colors and shapes 
 
 All sewed so sweetly together and strong 
 
 Becomes an emblem and speaks to my soul, . 
 
 Saying, let all things of life 
 
 Whether great or small 
 
 Whether bright or dark, 
 
 Be bound and woven together smooth 
 
 With threads of love. 
 
22 The Hard Times Edition. 
 
 MEDITATION. 
 
 All the day long I have pondered 
 Beneath my favorite trees, 
 Watching the ants and bees 
 
 Till my soul far from me has wandered; 
 
 I have thought of the loved ones gone 
 To that land of blooming flowers, 
 Of the Heavenly climes sweet bowers, 
 
 And the time when they had flown. 
 
 The years have fled since then 
 And times old wheel revolved. 
 Till now in my heart I resolved 
 
 To meet them once again. 
 
 SHALL WE LOOK MOURNFULLY ON? 
 
 What though the years on memory's wing 
 Seek the corridors of time and ever sing 
 Of loved ones long since gone to rest 
 Mong'st shining angels, pure and blest, 
 Shall it make us look mournfully on? 
 While others, cheerful as the sun 
 Go forward with these duties here. 
 Nor seem concerned of things above, nor fear 
 The coming blast. 
 
 THE DYING REQUEST OF THE BARD OF CAMILL. 
 
 Wreath him with flowers. 
 Encircle his bier 
 In beautiful clusters 
 Of God's chosen plants. 
 
 Put lilies and roses. 
 
 And violets rare 
 
 On the wooden receptacle 
 
 And lay him close there 
 
 Near his sister; his eldest sister. 
 
'A Christian Bud. 
 
24 The Hard Times Edition. 
 
 CREED OF THE UNITED CHURCH OF ABRAHAM 
 AND JESUS 
 
 Or 
 
 CHRISTIAN BUD. 
 
 We believe in The Holy Trinity which is God The 
 Father God The Son and God The Holy Ghost. 
 
 We believe every word of the divinely inspired Scrip- 
 tures as found in the Old and New Testaments. 
 
 We love the brethren of all other churches and hail 
 them as brethrn. 
 
 We believe in open communion and our invitation is 
 to all who do heartily repent of their sins and intend to 
 lead a new life. 
 
 We believe in baptism by immersion and that mode 
 only as that is the door to the church and it cannot be 
 administered until the person has professed a belief in 
 this creed and has repented of sin and asked admittance 
 into the church. 
 
 We believe in the circumcision of our father Abraham 
 and his son Jesus and no uncircumcised male shall be 
 accepted unless he make open profession that he does 
 believe in the same and agrees to have all male children 
 born to them circumcised at eight days of age. The cir- 
 cumcised child is not a member of the church nor shall 
 any record of such persons be kept. 
 
 We do not believe in infant baptism. 
 
 We believe in the holy ordinance of foot washing as 
 a test of humility and a meeting once a year shall be 
 held for this test. 
 
 We believe in the holy ordinance of the Lord's Supper 
 and a meeting once a year shall be held for this. 
 
 We believe in fasting and one day in each year shall 
 be set aside for fasting. 
 
 We believe in home and foreign missions. 
 
 The foregoing creed is the bud of the topmost bough 
 of the great religious tree of Almighty God and is in- 
 tended to bring all sects and beliefs into one perfect doc- 
 trine. 
 
 This is the creed of The Bard of Camill which he wrote 
 at 44 years of age after many years of careful and pray- 
 erful study of the many dotcrines of his day and time. 
 
 Written at Helena, Ga., Thursday, Sept. 17th, 1908. 
 
A Collection of Poetry and Prose 25 
 
 THE SIGN OF THE CLOVER LEAF 
 
 Or 
 
 THE SONG I HEARD IN DREAMLAND. 
 
 The Sim was setting; the lowing herds were slowly 
 winding their way homeward while their calves an- 
 swered them in the distance; just listen how they ex- 
 press j^earning and love. I wonder if the higher orders 
 of animal life love as truly as they do? The hills of 
 Helena are all aglow with the radiance of the golden 
 West and the tall pine trees and bays cast their long 
 shadows behind them. A gentle breeze has just begun 
 to blow, heavy laden with the perfume of the thousands 
 of bull bays that grow along the branch just back of the 
 store. I was sitting in my West window and enjoying 
 the scene and the perfume also when one of the engine 
 men passed under and called me; hello Batch said he, 
 hello Harry said I, wont you come up and sit awhile? 
 No said he, I only want to get a drink of water, I am 
 looking for an extra every minute. The well was not 
 far off so he got his water and walked away. I wish 
 they would quit calling me batch, but I reckon its too 
 late now as I have been batching over stores so long that 
 the name seems to fit exactly. However, I don't think 
 the word batch as found in the dictionery fits the new 
 meaning. I have just opened my pocket dictionary and 
 find that the first meaning or definition is "bread baked 
 at one time" and I am sure that does not apply as I never 
 bake bread ; the other definition is nearer correct namely, 
 "things taken together" as to batch means to bathe, to 
 sleep, to cook and eat, to read and write, to sew and 
 keep house all together in the same room. 
 
 There are two grades of batchs, one is nice batch and 
 one is sorry batch. The nice batch always takes pride in 
 keeping his room and clothing and cooking things, etc., 
 clean and in place while sorry batch pays no attention to 
 anything and imagines he is married and firmly believes 
 that while he is off at work (if he has a job) that she 
 will come and fix it all for him. He lives this way from 
 year to year until about the tenth year, at which time he 
 begins to realize that she is never coming and so he 
 makes an effort to clean up; it is really amusing to see 
 that collection of plunder and the different kinds that he 
 
26 The Hard Times Edition. 
 
 must find a place, for (for a batch will never throw any- 
 thing away). I always advise him to make him what is 
 known as a "Devilment Box" and pile everything into it 
 and put it away in one corner of the room; I know this 
 to be the best solution of the matter. A nice batch will 
 not carry a very large line of groceries and eatables but 
 will buy what he needs each day as his appetite may 
 dictate. When I get rich and married I am going to 
 build me a batch's canning factory and only can a five 
 cent size of everything; the sales o fthis size would be 
 immense as there are thousands (and not all batchelors) 
 who would rather buy just enough for one meal, of each 
 kind, as any more than this would spoil before the next 
 meal time arrives. 
 
 Thats what I say about breaking into ones meditations 
 here I have left my beautiful sunset and pines and bays 
 and perfumes, etc., and have been telling the world 
 about old batchelors, and their habits and woes. Let 
 them suff'er, the State is to blame for it all. I tried to 
 get the Legislature to pass a law taxing old maids and 
 they wouldn't do it. There are about a dozen of them 
 now living whom I plead with and they heeded me not. 
 The consequence is I am left alone with none to cheer me 
 in my old age. The first six told or hinted as much, that 
 a man ought not to marry until he was able to support a 
 wife and so I decided to change my tactics by advising 
 them to seek the man who was able to support them and 
 I would seek the woman who was able to support me. 
 Here I was again disappointed for the last six who were 
 able to support me, refused me on the grounds that I 
 loved their money better than I did them. This was not 
 true for I loved them with my whole soul and would 
 have laid down my life for each one of them. There 
 was no law by which I could force a marriage and so I 
 gave up the project altogether. Every old maid and 
 every old batchelor have their tale of woe to relate and 
 while this is not all of mine, still I feel I have told enough 
 to justify me from any blame for being an old batchelor, 
 I will let this abominable subject alone. 
 
 "The Western waves of ebbing day 
 Rolled o'er the glen their level way; 
 
 Each purple peak, each flinty spire 
 Was bathed in floods of living fire. 
 
A Collection of Poetry and Prose. 27 
 
 And so it is nearly dusk and I must hasten while my 
 muse invites. Yes as I said, it was a beautiful sunset 
 and bees and birds all seem to return thanks to their 
 Creator for the beautiful Spring day as they would fly 
 gently homeward, each giving expression in their own 
 language. 
 
 The subject and object of this piece was to tell the 
 world what I heard sung in dreamland on this very night 
 that followed this lovely afterglow, although I am be- 
 ginning to realize that it is a hard task to describe such 
 Angelic Visitations with such material as human words 
 furnish. 
 
 In the first place allow me to acquaint the reader with 
 the surroundings so that they may have no trouble in lo- 
 cating this Angelic Choir. I sleep upon a reed cot which 
 faces the South West and it is between two windows, 
 one a North window and the other a West window; It 
 was thru this West window that my soul made its escape 
 on this memorable night and it took a South West course : 
 I traveled back to the scenes of my childhood and was 
 walking on the banks of that dear river that I love so 
 well when all of a sudden the blue sky over me opened in- 
 to three windows or openings, all three of the openings 
 were right together taking the shape of a clover leaf, 
 and I exclaimed this is the sign of the clover leaf: Sud- 
 denly angelic forms appeared in the three windows and 
 all sang without books or instruments of any kind ; their 
 robes were so white as to dazzle my eyes and the music 
 was so sweet that I could not leave and the faces so fair 
 that I almost worshipped them. I have never heard 
 such music on earth and I tried to catch some of the 
 words and remember them but could only recall two 
 lines. I found myself swelling and dilating and was 
 twice the size man that I had been a minute before, my 
 efforts to join in the song caused me to thus dilate and 
 at my greatest effort I could only catch the words of the 
 two lines which I sang together with them. The two 
 lines are as follows : 
 
 I knew it would be sweet 
 But not so sweet as that." 
 
 These two lines will always be sacred to me because I 
 caught them from angelic lips. I tried to recognize some 
 of the faces but could not. The scene vanished as quick- 
 ly as it appeared and it made me sad when I awoke and 
 
28 The Hard Times Edition. 
 
 found it was all a dream and that I would never see the 
 sign of the clover leaf again. 
 
 I called all of my imaginary astrolligers and sooth-say- 
 ers together and commanded them to tell me the mean- 
 ing of the dream but none of them could interpret it. 
 Can you? 
 
 HOARDING AND SAVING VERSUS SPENDING 
 
 AND LENDING AND THE BENEFITS OF 
 
 THE EIGHT HOUR SYSTEM. 
 
 Hoarding and saving means hard times and panics 
 while spending and lending means good times and pros- 
 perity. The eight hour system puts twice as many to 
 spending and half as many to hoarding and saving. 
 
 Living wages and all at work is better than big wages 
 and many idle. 
 
 One clerk at $75.00 per month will put more money 
 out of circulation than two clerks at $37.50 each. 
 
 Manual labor puts less money out of circulation than 
 all the others, 
 
 I will only mention a few to illustrate. 
 
 A superior court judge on a $3000.00 annual salary 
 will put much out of circulation unless he be engaged 
 in farming or invests in other enterprises. 
 
 A minister of the gospel (if a charitable man) and liv- 
 ing in a small town with an average family and parson- 
 age furnished him on a $1000,00 yearly salary will put 
 very little money out of circulation. 
 
 Lawyers and doctors (if successful) put much money 
 out of circulation and should be taxed according to the 
 income from their clients and patients. 
 
 Land incorporations and individuals owing an exces- 
 sive number of acres should not be allowed to charge 
 more than the wild land price they paid for such land 
 plus legal rate of interest and taxes where the timber 
 has been taken from such land and no improvements 
 thereon : that is to actual settlers who need a homestead 
 of say 160 acres and who can show themselves to be per- 
 sons of good character or are trying to flee from sin and 
 corruption and settle down and become good citizens. Or 
 else if said corporation choose it may improve said land 
 
A Collection of Poetry and Prose. 29 
 
 by first boring deep wells and stumping, fencing and 
 building nice attractive homes, all houses painted and 
 in good shape for people to live in and farm houses for 
 stock etc., and to charge rental on a basis of legal inter- 
 est rates. The Earth is the Lord's and men should be 
 encouraged to go there, especialy ought the over-crowded 
 cities take an interest in this matter and try and make 
 an agricultural people out of the numerous and ever in- 
 creasing population of unemployed men and women. 
 Corporations should always be encouraged because they 
 are formed for the purpose of spending money and de- 
 velop our resources and country. The definition of mon- 
 ey is "Coin for current use in trade" or a substitute for 
 it" and as soon as it is laid away to hoard it becomes no 
 longer money but a dead commodity and an aider of the 
 panic. It hurts a mans feelings much more to put his 
 earnings in a bank and loose it than to have enjoyed the 
 blessings he could have gained by the spending of it. In 
 Proverbs XI- 24 there is that scattereth and yet increas- 
 eth and there is that withholdeth more than is meet, 
 but it tendeth t opoverty. 
 
 The real cause of the recent panic is Commercial stag- N 
 nation and the explanation may be found in Revelation / 
 XVIII- 2. "And the Merchants of the Earth shall weep 
 and mourn over her for no man buyeth her merchandise 
 any more" added to this is about three million of our 
 own people out of employment. 
 
 Moderate work and moderate wages with a third of 
 our time given us for recreation and enjoyment is better 
 than high wages and no time to rest and no enjoyment 
 and besides we have the consolation of knowing that 
 we are dividing the inheritances with out brother who 
 has been left out in the cold. 
 
 It is everywhere evident that the spending power has 
 been weakened and as I have already intimated, that 
 is the cause of the panic ; Everybody has become sellers 
 and not enough buyers. I don't mean that the people are 
 all supplied, nay verily; they need millions of dollars 
 worth of the commodities now in stock and piled up wait- 
 ing, for what? Why waiting for our warships to go 
 around the globe (which of course is a good advertise- 
 ment) but the trouble is those other countries are build- 
 ing factories as well as we and the thing for us to do is to 
 find employment for those needing it; if we don't find 
 
30 The Hard Tmies Edition. 
 
 it in the cities then go to the country ; there is a plenty to 
 do out there. 
 
 I believe if every man, woman and child in the United 
 States were housed and fed and clothed and treated in 
 the proper manner every way that there would not be 
 such a large surplus left on our hands to seek foreign 
 markets. Alas, how sad to think of the many thousands 
 of homeless human beings who love home and who are 
 always in sight of beautiful homes and in sight of mil- 
 lions of dollars worth of material for building homes 
 and plenty of land to build on and thousands of workmen 
 who would like to get the job of building him one, all 
 standing idle while the money power stands hard by and 
 are unable to help him. 
 
 No, no, they say to him, go back to the crowded cities 
 and live in those dens I built for you and live in that 
 filth and degradation and eat the soup and stale bread 
 that charity offers and when business opens up I'll give 
 you a job. I own the land says money and I'll not allow 
 you to live out here in the sweet fresh air and teach you 
 how to farm and run dairies and shear sheep and keep 
 the orchard and mow the grass and wheat, etc. Oh, 
 capital. Oh, money, think on this and bend your energies 
 in correcting this evil ; and do not stop when you have 
 reached this very poor humanity; there are many who 
 are in a better way in the city who would move to the 
 country if capital would turn their attention towards 
 the building up of the rural districts. Farming should 
 be taught if needs be. What was the Negro as a farmer 
 when he was first brought to this country? He had to be 
 taught and surely we ought to think as much of those 
 of our own race. 
 
 There have been some very pathetic stories written 
 about the poor of the large cities but no definate nor de- 
 termined steps have ever been taken to induce them to go 
 to the country. In fact I have heard some say that they 
 would not stay if sent to the country, I have also heard 
 others say that the reason was that the places they had 
 to live in out in the country were not better and some- 
 times not as good as those in the city and I know this to 
 be true. For fifty, nay one hundred years or more our 
 farmers have had to bear the burdens of the whole 
 world and feed and cloth it for barely rations and the 
 average farm laborer and crop shearer live in very poor 
 
A Collection of Poetry and Prose. 31 
 
 houses; the boss or owner live in just a little better grade 
 house as a general thing but the prices that he has had 
 to sell his product at for the past decade has made it im- 
 possible for him to do any better for his tenants. I have 
 seen men on good farms drinking muddy water and they 
 are doing it right now all over this country during dry 
 seasons when the shallow or surface wells get low, when 
 two hundred dollars would bore him a well that would 
 be a blessing to him and his posterity. But as I have 
 told you, they have not been able to make many improve- 
 ments on account of prices. Of course I don't mean that 
 every man could not have had a good well of water ; there 
 are some of our farmers and planters who are land cra- 
 zy and when they get any spare money they buy another 
 piece of land with it instead of spending for the well, I 
 am writing this for their benefit and hope if any guilty 
 farmer reads this that he will repent at once and send for 
 the well borer immediately and save his family those 
 chills and fever caused most every time from drinking 
 bad water. 
 
 There is another class who ought to examine them- 
 selves and see if they have done their full duty towards 
 their tenants and that is the very rich planter who owns 
 many farms and who clears money every year. Some 
 of his tenants are drinking mud and living in very shab- 
 by houses that are not painted and have nothing attrac- 
 tive or homelike about them ; shame on you my friends 
 who are thus treating those faithful souls who bear the 
 heat and the cold for you that you may be made com- 
 fortable. Providence does not expect impossibilities but 
 does expect something; if you cant bore but one well a 
 year and paint and make attractive, one home a year why 
 do that and your tenants will catch the spirit of improve- 
 ment also and in a few years you will have good water 
 and nice attractive houses on all your farms and the in- 
 crease in valuation will more than foot the bill. Just lay 
 out so much every year for improvements of this kind. 
 
 But what has this got to do with spending and lend- 
 ing? I switched off to this subject by trying to get a 
 farm for my poor city friend so that he would be in posi- 
 tion to earn something to spend and so I am not very 
 far from the theme. 
 
 Another idea has struck me by which we might streng- 
 then the spending power in this country and that is the 
 
32 The Hard Times Edition. 
 
 "old age pension" England has just passed it and New 
 Zealand has had it for years and it works like a charm. 
 Every days some old worn out railroad man or carpenter 
 or clerk or book-keeper or mechanic or factory operative 
 or miner or farmer fall by the wayside and are unable 
 to rise again; they have passed the age when they can 
 be used in any kind of work. Some old engineer or con- 
 ductor who has made miles enough to have belted the 
 globe thousands of times. Some old farmer who has 
 made enough to have fed and clothed a nation. Some 
 old clerk who has handled enough goods of different 
 kinds to make a mountain miles high if it were all piled 
 together. Some old book-keeper who has used enough 
 ink to darken the waters of the Nile or Amazon if it were 
 all poured out at once. Most all of these faithful ones 
 find themselves with a bare living at the close of life 
 and it is nothing but right that they should be thus pro- 
 tected from want the few remaining years. In conclu- 
 sion allow me to suggest that there are other means that 
 could be used to strengthen the spending power in this 
 country and one is to issue bonds and dig that great 
 canal from the Mississippi river to the Atlantic Ocean as 
 some of our statesmen have suggested. But I must in- 
 sist on the agitation of the old age pension as that is hu- 
 mane and merciful and a measure that the smile of God 
 is already on. 
 
 NEGRO'S OR OUR OWN BLOOD, WHICH? 
 A Plea for Both Races. 
 
 We have got to choose some day between the two ; shall 
 we act rashly and also unwisely and attempt to drive the 
 Negro out like we did the Indian or shall we be conser- 
 vative and wise and humane by treating the faithful old 
 "Uncles and Aunties" as they ought to be treated? I 
 said unwisely and Indian but will not say that we acted 
 altogether unwisely in the case of the Indian. 'Tis true 
 we took his land from him and drove him from it, but 
 "The Earth Is the Lord's" and all of it did not belong to 
 the Indian alone. We offered him improvement and he 
 refused it. We offered him a place with us if he would 
 use the land and he refused. We even would have been 
 willing for him to have dwelt here with us if he would 
 
A Collection of Poetry and Prose. 33 
 
 behave himself and quit plundering and killing our own 
 people and robbing us of our produce that we had worked 
 out of the land that it was his privilege to get also if he 
 would only work. 
 
 In the case of the Negro it is quite different. We al- 
 lured him to this country against his will and have forc- 
 ed him to be civilized and have trained him in the trades 
 and customs of our people; we have taught him the best 
 methods of farming and some are far advanced in the 
 professions, etc. 
 
 Liberia has been selected as his final home and is an 
 independent Negro republic, with president and cabinet, 
 house and senate, with constitution framed after that of 
 the United States. Liberia lies on the West Coast of 
 Africa and has four hundred miles of coast line and 
 35000 square miles of area, soil along the coast very fer- 
 tile; coffee is the leading crop. Population about two 
 Million, sixty thousand of whom have lived in America. 
 Voters must be of Negro blood and own real estate. 
 
 Now what shall we do? There are thousands of good 
 white emigrants knocking at our door and cannot be ad- 
 mitted on account of their places being filled by negroes. 
 The negro rapist has scared most all the white women to 
 the towns and cities until they are almost overflowing 
 with unemployed white men and boys hunting work and 
 living from hand to mouth, while the women and girls 
 sew or teach or clerk or keep boarders. It is growing 
 worse every day. If we had these white folks on our 
 farms and no negro's in this country we would see a big 
 change. Instead of crowded cities and towns we would 
 see beautiful country homes everywhere. The bees will 
 follow their queen and so it is with the human family, 
 where she leads they follow. 
 
 As a people the negro's have been a blessing to us and 
 we have been a blessing to them ; they have felled our 
 trees and cleared up our lands and built our fences and 
 dug our ditches and wells and built us homes and barns 
 etc., to say nothing of public works such as saw mills, 
 railroads, etc. They have been faithful in the tilling of 
 the soil and in many ways have been good citizens and as 
 a laborer he is hard to beat. They have done all this 
 and on barely living wages. The whole earth has helped 
 to rob him as cotton which has been his sole dependence 
 has been taken by the market at away below the cost 
 of production. 
 
34 The Hard Times Edition. 
 
 Then if this be true we owe them a moral debt an] 
 that is to place him back in his own country in a better 
 condition than we found him and also give them what 
 they have given us viz : a home, a well, a barn and bear 
 his expenses and give them armed intervention by our 
 Army and Navy until he can put his house in order and 
 prepare a place for his family. Shall we try to do all this 
 in four years like we did when we freed them and bring 
 disorder and all manner of discomfort and corruption 
 and death on our country? I think we all will agree that 
 this plan would not do at all. Then by all means let it 
 be done slowly and gradually. Allow so many families 
 from each Congressional District to go every year or as 
 their homes are prepared for them. 
 
 I have talked to some of our colored brethren on this 
 subject and at first they seemed a little displeased and 
 referred me back to the time when a number of their 
 race went over to Liberia and nearly all died of exposure, 
 having no place to live in nor anything to subsist upon 
 but when I explained my plan to him about the Govern- 
 ment bearing all the expense and of its being under 
 government control and supervision he seemed very much 
 pleased and agreed that it would work all right. 
 
 Now as the Negro families leave us each year we will 
 allow as many families of the aforesaid good white em- 
 igrant farmers and good men of the old country to come 
 in. In fifty or one hundred years the negroes will have 
 been comfortably placed back in their own native land 
 and their places been filled by those of our own blood and 
 the race question be settled forever and nobody hurt. 
 
 At last when all of our negroes have been happily lo- 
 cated and have learned the ways and customs of their 
 Liberian brethren and have learned how to be self-sus- 
 taining and independent by the aid of our government 
 as well as by their own efforts and the efforts of their own 
 government then our responsibility will have ended and 
 Uncle Sam can then withdraw his army and navy and 
 turn everything over to them and bid them farewell. 
 
A Collection of Poetry and Prose. 35 
 
 FAMILIAR SAYINGS. 
 
 As good as gold 
 
 As green as a ghourd 
 As white as wool 
 
 As cold as a toad. 
 
 As playful as a kitten 
 
 As true as a die 
 As warm as a mitten 
 
 As high as the sky. 
 
 As sweet as honey 
 As strong as steel 
 
 As cute as bunny 
 As dusty as meal. 
 
 As slow as a snail 
 
 As free as air 
 As wild as a buck 
 
 As hairy as a bear. 
 
 As green as grass 
 As heavy as lead 
 
 As smooth as glass 
 As still as the dead. 
 
 As slick as grease 
 As smooth as a smile 
 
 As pious as a priest 
 As simple as a child 
 
 As slender as a sapling 
 As salty as brine 
 
 As quick as lightning 
 As tall as a pine. 
 
 As black as pitch 
 
 As hot as fire 
 As deceitful as a witch 
 
 As soft as the mire. 
 
36 The Hard Times Edition. 
 
 As white as a swan 
 As black as a crow 
 
 As childish as an old man 
 As dull as a fro. 
 
 As cold as an iceburg 
 
 As hot as hell 
 As dry as an ash pan 
 
 As wet as a well. 
 
 As stubborn as a mule 
 As filthy as a hog 
 
 As brainless as a dude 
 As sick as a dog. 
 
 As wise as a Soloman 
 As crazy as a loon 
 • As broad as the ocean 
 
 As pale as the moon. 
 
 As pretty as a picture 
 As gay as a bird 
 
 As solemn as a preacher 
 As sour as curd. 
 
 As hard as a stone 
 As soft as mush 
 
 As flabby as a dish rag 
 As low as a bush. 
 
 As fretful as a porcupine 
 As peaceful as a dove 
 
 As long as a clothes line 
 As short as a nub. 
 
 As fleet as an anteloupe 
 As wild as a deer 
 
 As fast as a race horse 
 As strong as a steer. 
 
 As wicked as satan 
 As holy as a saint 
 
 As busy as a bee 
 
 As industrious as an ant. 
 
A Collection of Poetry and Prose. 37 
 
 As quiet as the grave 
 
 As billowy as the sea 
 As pale as death 
 
 As speckled as a pea. 
 
 As tall as a bean pole 
 
 As short as a stay 
 As sure's gun's iron 
 
 As bright as day. 
 
 As mad as a hornet 
 
 As black as ink 
 As lonesome as a hermit 
 
 As pretty as a pink 
 
 As wise as an owl 
 
 As crazy as a chinch 
 As innocent as a dove 
 
 As courteous as the French. 
 
 As chase as a virgin 
 
 As variable as the wind 
 As modest as a violet 
 
 As sweet as Jenny Lind. 
 
 As soft as down 
 
 As sweet as a rose 
 As witty as a clown 
 
 As white as the snows. 
 
 As cheeky as a town cow 
 
 As worthless as a tramp 
 As hard up as a hobo 
 
 As bright as a lamp. 
 
 As bright as noon's sun 
 
 As dark as midnight 
 As pure as fine gold 
 
 As might should be right. 
 
 As sleek as a ribbon 
 
 As rough as a file 
 As sharp as a needle 
 
 As innocent as a child. 
 
38 The Hard Times Edition. 
 
 As vicious as a wild cat 
 As gentle as a lamb 
 
 As brilliant as the stars 
 As faithful Abraham. 
 
 As polite as a dancing master 
 As shifting as the sand 
 
 As solid as a rock 
 
 As tight as Dick's hat band. 
 
 As sleek as a minister 
 As old as the hills 
 
 As sour as vinegar 
 As wheat to the mills. 
 
 As lively as a criket 
 As still as a mouse 
 
 As black as ebony 
 As low as a louse. 
 
 As high as Haaman 
 As quick as thought 
 
 As limitless as space 
 
 As headstrong as a goat. 
 
 As large as an elephant 
 As small as a gnat 
 
 As rotten as politics 
 As tame as a house cat. 
 
 As pretty as red slippers 
 
 As cold as ice 
 As hot as red pepper 
 
 As still as mice. 
 
 As freckled as a turkey egg 
 
 As sticky as glue 
 As nervous as an aspen leaf 
 
 As plain as an old shoe. 
 
 As changeable as the weather 
 As spiteful as a wasp 
 
 As high as a mountain 
 As poisonous as an asp. 
 
A Collection of Poetry and Prose. 39 
 
 As spotted as a leopard 
 
 As nickless as a hant 
 As cheeky as a drummer 
 
 As hard as adamant. 
 
 As blue as indigo 
 
 As red as blood 
 As strong as aqua fortis 
 
 As sleepy as a log. 
 
 As flat as a flounder 
 
 As round as the globe 
 As old as Methuselah 
 
 As patient as Job. 
 
 As gray as a badger 
 
 As sleek as an eel 
 As mean as the devil. 
 
 As big as a whale. 
 
 As white as cotton 
 
 As black as smut 
 As yellow as a pumpkin 
 
 As, Oh, tut tut. 
 
 As poor as a convict 
 
 As rich as Jay Gould 
 As gay as a butterfly 
 
 As nonsensical as a fool. 
 
 As drunk as a lord 
 As full as a tick 
 As gentle as a zephyr 
 As hard as a brick. 
 
 As white as a lily 
 
 As dirty as a hog 
 As wicked as old harry 
 
 As dense as a fog. 
 
 As sandy as a desert 
 As firm as clay 
 . As bright as a diamond 
 As, so I hear them say. 
 
40 The Hard Times Edition. 
 
 As Carter had oats 
 
 As empty as a shell 
 As weak as water 
 
 As, I didn't get a smell. 
 
 As poisonous as a rattlesnake 
 
 As gay as a lark 
 As meek as Moses 
 
 As a man in the dark. 
 
 As mad as a bay steer 
 
 As frivolous as a flirt 
 As cowardly as a slave 
 
 As black as dirt. 
 
 As watchful as a terrier 
 
 As fat as a match 
 As idle as a drone 
 
 As lonesome as a batch. 
 
 As longwinded as a camel 
 
 As durable as time 
 As a drunkard loves dram 
 
 As ducks love to swim. 
 
 As fish love water 
 
 As rats love cheese 
 As hogs love slops 
 
 As bears love to squeeze. 
 
 As musical as a nightengale 
 
 As envious as Cain 
 As serious as a monk 
 
 As fast as a train. 
 
 As drunk as a biled owl 
 
 As full as a goat 
 As skittish as a young mule 
 
 As wild as a colt. 
 
 As sure as God made little apples 
 As a drowning man catches a straw 
 
 As eloquent as Patrick Henry 
 As honorable as a senator. 
 
A Collection of Poetry and Prose. 41 
 
 As careful as a druggist 
 
 As yellow as gold 
 As lovely as heaven 
 
 As, I've caught a bad cold. 
 
 As ravenous as hyenas 
 
 As hungry as a wolf 
 As wet as water 
 
 As deep as the gulf. 
 
 As learned as a Socrates 
 
 As lovable as Jesus 
 As handsome as Adonis 
 
 As beautiful as Venus. 
 
 As timid as a girl 
 
 As bashful as a boy 
 As green as a country lad 
 
 As useless as a toy. 
 
 As crooked as a snake 
 
 As straight as an arrow 
 As tall as a giraffe 
 
 As rich as marrow. 
 
 As sour as a crab apple 
 
 As sweet as a peach 
 As dry as Saharah 
 
 As drawing as a leech. 
 
 As frisky as a squirrel 
 
 As sly as a fox 
 As shame as a possum 
 
 As strong as an ox. 
 
 As firm as the rock of Gibralter 
 As close as the bark on a tree 
 
 As dry as a last year's bird nest 
 As busy as I can be. 
 
 As soaring as the eagle 
 
 As grand as a prince 
 As sober as a judge 
 
 As silent as the Sphinx. 
 
42 The Hard Times Edition. 
 
 As lazy as a grasshopper 
 As mad as a wet hen 
 
 As fussy as a parrot 
 As, world without end. 
 
 As cruel as Nero 
 
 As speechless as a mute 
 
 As mouthy as a woman 
 As heartless as a brute. 
 
 As righteous as Jehovah 
 As innocent as a babe 
 
 As venomous as a viper 
 As rogueish as a knave. 
 
 As cheerful as Springtime 
 As cold as can be 
 
 As sombre as Autumn 
 As uncertain as a flea. 
 
 As sure as death and taxes 
 As flourishing as a bay 
 
 And now midnight waxes 
 And I must hie away. 
 
 THE OLD SEABOARD. 
 
 The Old Seaboard called the S. A. L. 
 From Norfolk and Portsmouth to Jacksonville 
 Connections at Washington with the B. & 0. 
 Birmingham, Montgomery to the seashore. 
 
 From River Junction in the Land of Flowers 
 To Boca Grande thru palmetto she scours; 
 Tallahassee, Monticello to St. Mark, 
 Wacissa, Drifton down to Stark. 
 
 Sarasota, Braidentown and the Manatee; 
 Lake Charm and Tampa, then to Cedar Key : 
 Lake City, Live Oak, Ellaville and Madison, 
 Yulee, Wannee South to Ellenton. 
 
A Collection of Poetry and Prose. 43 
 
 Dade City, Plant City are all on her line, 
 Leesburg, Ocala, also Eagle Mine; 
 Waldo, Orlando in this "Paradise Regained" 
 Florida's nick name since her orchards were trained. 
 
 There are many more cities just within reach 
 That I cannot include in this short little speech; 
 So I'll close as I'm tired, the weather's so hot; 
 You can look at the map for the ones I forgot. 
 
 A LETTER FROM THE DEAD. 
 
 The reader will no doubt be curious to know just how 
 I got this strange letter which contained a twenty dollar 
 bill. 
 
 On December the some years ago 
 
 I received a strange letter, would you like to know? 
 
 From a friend long since dead 
 
 For I stood by his bed 
 
 The ground was covered with snow. 
 
 This message came by way of the S. A. M. 
 From the dead letter office, via Birmingham; 
 I tore it asunder, and much to my wonder 
 But not against will; a twenty dollar bill 
 Was folded there so snugly and calm. 
 
 I then began to read, but made little speed. 
 The writing was so dim it made by head swim; 
 This is surely bad writing, looks more like fighting; 
 Some green goods man trying to show me his plan, 
 I filled with laughter up to the brim. 
 
 The thing was directed to Monday Randall 
 My name at the bottom completed the scandal; 
 It said he would help me as long as he could, 
 Had made many thousands a dealing in wood. 
 
 Also said he respected his betters 
 
 And thanked me twice thanked me for teaching him 
 
 letters ; 
 Twins I suppose? can't tell one from t'other, 
 Monday's not dead; it was his twin brother? 
 
44 The Hard Times Edition. 
 
 How mysterious are the schemes of these earthly mortals, 
 We read where they've entered the heavenly portals; 
 But when the truth's known, in strange lands they're 
 
 shown 
 With names and faces, not primordials. 
 
 So now its made plain to my addled brain 
 How a man tho deceased can be heard from again 
 He just writes to himself and secures the postage, 
 His live friend's name and address he forges. 
 
 THE FATHER OF LIES. 
 
 The father of lies 
 Controls the skies. 
 
 The whole earth, the land and the sea; 
 The newspapers cater 
 To this old soul hater. 
 
 Regardless of truth and me. 
 
 I can't turn my head 
 Without being fed 
 
 On falsehoods and scandals and such; 
 Until I am weary 
 Of the things dark and dreary. 
 
 That I read of each day, and so much. 
 
 The mad dog's bite, 
 The scenes at midnight. 
 
 The young bride that deserted her hubby 
 The murder last evening. 
 The lawyer's best thieving. 
 
 The young babe in the basket, so chubby. 
 
 The wicked divorce 
 Is another source, 
 
 Of crowning this prince of hell; 
 Then railroad wrecks 
 We'll all break our necks, 
 
 I'm almost afraid to tell. 
 
A Collection of Poetry and Prose. 45 
 
 There are thousands of ways 
 Manufactured these days 
 
 To keep up the trouble and strife; 
 If you can't chime in 
 With this chorus of sin, 
 
 You had better get rid of this life. 
 
 Woman's admiration 
 
 For this sword of perdition 
 
 Is the matter that startles us most; 
 And children soon learn 
 To coquette and discern, 
 
 And of every mean thing highly boast. 
 
 The governor's election 
 Is another selection 
 
 The devil maps out in his plans; 
 To smut the face 
 Of the whole human race. 
 
 By arousing the hatred of clans. 
 
 Those horrible rapes 
 Committed by apes. 
 
 How sad for the pages of history; 
 Every day we must read 
 Of this dastardly deed, 
 
 Why hanging don't stop it, is a mystery. 
 
 COME LET US REASON TOGETHER. 
 
 Come let's reason together my people 
 
 Let's reason together my friends, 
 Don't go in the church thru the steeple 
 
 When there are plenty of doors at both ends. 
 
 It's no use of running courts 
 
 When there's nothing there to do; 
 
 Manufactured crime 
 
 Is a waste of time, 
 
 And the people's money too. 
 
46 The Hard Times Edition. 
 
 In these days of plenty 
 
 I don't think there are many 
 
 Who are really mean at heart; 
 But the court house ring 
 Would be a dead thing, 
 
 If our Savior should steal their chart. 
 
 The ministers will sob 
 When they lose their job, 
 
 The time can't be very long; 
 For God has drawn nearer 
 Our intellects are clearer, 
 
 Look early for Millennium Dawn. 
 
 Why should I act mad 
 When I am not mad. 
 
 Why fight when I don't feel like fighting; 
 What's the use 
 Of this abuse. 
 
 Scaring innocent souls to afrighting. 
 
 Why should I steal 
 
 When I don't want to steal. 
 
 There are plenty good things at the store; 
 If I'll work a little 
 I'll earn my vitual. 
 
 Could I ask for anything more? 
 
 God's only school 
 Is the golden rule. 
 
 It's a waste of time to repeat it; 
 Treat "old Sambo" 
 Like young son Joe, 
 
 If he owes you, give him time to meet it. 
 
 Of course we all must eat 
 Must clothe the body and feet, 
 
 I've never yet heard of one's starving; 
 But we grumble and grumble 
 And mumble and mumble. 
 
 Right up to the big turkey carving. 
 
A Collection of Poetry and Prose. 47 
 
 Lands are high 
 And taxes high 
 
 What shall we do with the loafers? 
 The cities must feed 
 This useless breed, 
 
 The country raise nothing but gophers. 
 
 Planting cotton 
 
 Should be most forgotten 
 
 In this beautiful South land of ours; 
 We should raise all our meat 
 And everything we eat, 
 
 With just enough staple for trousers. 
 
 POEM ON PAPER. 
 
 My name is paper 
 I've cut quite a caper 
 
 fn the history of the past; 
 I'm not very strong 
 And don't live long. 
 
 But am good as gold while I last. 
 
 I was first discovered 
 On a bush uncovered. 
 
 By a wasp was my secret made known; 
 For he hung his nest 
 Nearer earth than was best, 
 
 And the man came along and was shown. 
 
 Before this was done 
 They used skins and stone 
 
 And anything else they could get; 
 Then Papyrus came 
 Who gave me my name. 
 
 To my sorrow and regret. 
 
 Next was rags 
 And old dirty bags. 
 
 And then found me hid in trees; 
 Now it's wood pulp 
 From Maine to the Gulf 
 
 They keep thousands as busy as bees. 
 
48 The Hard Times Edition. 
 
 It' hard to conceive 
 Much harder to believe, 
 
 But the timber men use for this purpose; 
 Is greater by far 
 Than all others are, 
 
 Such distruction of forest should disturb us. 
 
 The big news press 
 Never lets me rest, 
 
 I must carry the words to the nations; 
 So I'm stuck up with tags 
 And packed in mail bags, 
 
 And thrown off at the railway stations. 
 
 The Library shelves 
 Speak for themselves, 
 
 Of the number of Ibooks I bestow; 
 Then the many songs 
 I hand out to the throngs, 
 
 I am handled by the rich and poor. 
 
 I'm made into coin certificates 
 And clearing house certificates, 
 
 I travel the world wide over; 
 I play Tjany pranks 
 On tho people's national banks 
 
 During Panic'y times I'm a scorer. 
 
 Everything that men think 
 Goes on me with ink, 
 
 If he makes a mistake in his writing; 
 He tears me to pieces 
 Another sheet seizes. 
 
 Looks angry like one that's been fighting. 
 
 I'm made into wrappers 
 Into cartoons and lappers 
 
 Into boxes and bags by the millions; 
 Into guides, into maps 
 And ten thousand different shapes. 
 
 The pounds run way up in the billions. 
 
A Collection of Poetry and Prose. 49 
 
 My errand called duns 
 Which every one shuns, 
 
 Is the one thing that makes me so dreaded : 
 Next the court warrants 
 Commanding little tyrants, 
 
 You'd almost as soon be beheaded. 
 
 I'm in evidence everywhere 
 From the earth to the air, 
 
 Bring quick news of crimes that are bloody; 
 I'm the book-keeper's tool 
 I'm hated at school, 
 
 By the bad little folks that wont study. 
 
 I advertise shows 
 I chronicle woes. 
 
 That oftimes o'ertake human creatures; 
 If the sheriff's on time 
 I'm a detective of crime, 
 
 And can show the law breakers own features. 
 
 I go (oefore 
 
 The carpet on the floor, 
 
 I'm spread between shingles and roofs; 
 I'm used in repairs 
 Of old worn out chairs, 
 
 I decorate the walls of booths. 
 
 Made into window shades 
 
 Into something called ace of spades. 
 
 It sit up all night with the gamblers; 
 I send them to jail 
 Sometimes without bail, 
 
 I'm hard on these midnight ramblers. 
 
 I bring God's salvation 
 And condemnation 
 
 In that Holiest of Holy books; 
 I work for the devil 
 As well as the people 
 
 I don't care how dirty it looks. 
 
•50 The Hard Times Edition. 
 
 Medicines I hide 
 Directions inside, 
 
 With name and price on the wrapper; 
 Numerous prescriptions 
 Of many descriptions, 
 
 Cut with holes by the files little snapper. 
 
 I'm tacked up as signs 
 On all the large pines, 
 
 On houses and fences and bridges; 
 As dodgers Pm strewn 
 From the roads to the lawn, 
 
 The highways, the rocks and hedges. 
 
 Into almanacs 
 And paper sacks, 
 
 I go into every home; 
 To carry the sweets 
 For Christmas treats, 
 
 From the sinner to the pope of Rome. 
 
 Into gun shells 
 
 And pretty tissue bells. 
 
 They hang for the flies to light on; 
 Made into kites 
 For aerial flights, 
 
 I give orders for soldiers to fight on. 
 
 The railway engineer 
 
 Can't move his gear. 
 
 Till he gets his orders from me; 
 
 Passengers must wait 
 
 Sometimes very late, 
 
 When some old train's on a spree. 
 
 Into car wheels 
 And paper shoe heels, 
 
 Card board and buckets and papertrays; 
 Catalogues and schedules 
 Calendars and April fools, 
 
 Valentines, post-cards and birthdays. 
 
A Collection of Poetry and Prose. 51 
 
 Into shirt collars 
 And paper dollars, 
 
 Very popular as circulating medium; 
 If based on gold 
 My lovers are bold, 
 
 And worth par from Alaska to Jerusalem. 
 
 There are many things more 
 I can't think of just now. 
 
 Manufactured of paper so good ; 
 But these few lines 
 Only mentions the kinds, 
 
 That my memory has best understood. 
 
 TOBACCO. 
 
 The "Great Spirit planted it" in old Indian times; 
 And only red men used it in the far off Northern climes ; 
 
 I gave sweet consolation 
 
 To this wild American nation. 
 Brought peace to every tribe 
 Whom the peace pipe would imbibe. 
 
 But soon there comes the pale face brother 
 From away across the big sea water. 
 
 Sees the smoke with wondering eyes 
 
 And smell it much to his surprise; 
 Takes some back across the ocean 
 Which puts the others in the notion. 
 
 Oh, the sickness and the choking 
 
 While the pale face learned of smoking. 
 Time rolled on, the white man came, 
 The colonies thrived, they learned my name; 
 
 Planted me more and more each year. 
 
 Till thousands of acres do now appear. 
 
 I am known by many brands 
 
 From Greenland mountains to Saharah's sands; 
 As a useless luxury they've listed me down 
 Must pay Internal Revenue so much a pound; 
 
 Nailed up in caddies to keep out the damp 
 
 With my name on the box and a government stamp. 
 
52 The Hard Times Edition. 
 
 If you want a good chew and something fine 
 Buy a plug of Brown's Mule or Twisted Grapevine, 
 
 There's Early Bird, Sweep Stakes, Liberty Bell and 
 Kite 
 
 Footprints and Rams Horn, Schnapps is allright; 
 Maritana, Man's Pride, Moss and Tooth Pick, 
 Star Navy, Natural Leaf, will make your goozle slick. 
 
 Others in stock you'll find for sale, 
 
 Blood Hound, Big Whistle, Plum and Big Whale; 
 Red Meat, Red Apple, Red Jay and Hickory, 
 Cabin Home, Home Comfort, also Rich and Waxy. 
 
 Of the smoking kinds I have to show. 
 
 Pride of Reidsville, Bull Durham, Dukes and Tuxedo; 
 Off Duty, R. J. R., Three Feathers and Sensation, 
 Prince Albert, Union Leader of a mighty nation. 
 
 IS THIS WHERE THE DEAD FOLKS LIVE? 
 
 On riding by a cemetery in a street car, a little girl 
 asked the conductor, "Is this where the the dead folks 
 live?" 
 
 Is this where the dead folks live? 
 
 Asked a maiden of tender years, 
 The only reply the conductor could give 
 
 Was yes; and his eyes filled with tears. 
 
 So innocent, so sweet was her question. 
 
 The passengers all turned toward the place; 
 
 While the radiance of satisfaction 
 Beamed forth from her childish face. 
 
 Do you know my mama's number? 
 
 I want to call on her today 
 To see if she would remember 
 
 Her darling little May. 
 
 She left me long ago 
 
 To come and live out here ; 
 Please tell me which is the row, 
 
 Baby wants to see mother dear. 
 
A Collection of Poetry and Prose. 53 
 
 They beckoned to the keeper, 
 
 A kind old man was he, 
 Soon he became a weeper 
 
 When he heard her little plea. 
 
 Yes my child I'll show you. 
 
 But Mama's not here today; 
 She's been gone a month or two 
 
 On a visit, far away. 
 
 And when she returns little girl 
 
 I'll drop you a line by the post; 
 I'm looking for a message from the other world, 
 
 Possibly in five years at most, 
 
 A cloud of deepest sorrow 
 
 Stole gently o'er her brow; 
 Don't you reckon she'll come tomorrow? 
 
 Oh, I wish I could see mama now. 
 
 THE RAIN CROW. 
 
 "As long as the rain crows squall" The rain is sure 
 to fall; if you kill him it won't rain at all. The cotton 
 choppers of the South dread this bird as it means rain 
 and grass as long as he hollers. 
 
 I keep hearin' de rain crow holler 
 He says its gwine to rain evermore; 
 
 I wish you'd quit hollerin' old rain crow, 
 I wants to use my shovel and my hoe. 
 
 De grass keeps a growin in de cotton 
 De weeds keeps a growin in de yard; 
 
 De old rain crow keeps a hollerin, 
 Dey won't make a thing blessed Lord. 
 
 De corn it am tryin to tassle 
 
 De rain crow he holler so loud ; 
 De poor little corn have to hustle, 
 
 For de rain crow he draw de cloud. 
 
54 The Hard Times Edition. 
 
 Please stop hollerin mister rain crow 
 And let us have a little dry spell ; 
 
 If you don't we're ruined forever, 
 Wid no corn and cotton for to sell. 
 
 MONTGOMERY THE FIG TREE CITY. 
 
 Montgomery the fig tree city 
 
 With beautiful magnolias so tall, 
 
 And such grand old oaks ; what a pity, 
 Her dogs outnumber them all. 
 
 Never saw so many dogs in my life, 
 Alabama can't mean here we rest; 
 
 For at night the howlers run rife, 
 I can't sleep a wink for these pests. 
 
 To feed these ten thousand canine 
 
 It must take an awful lot; 
 (While poor children suffer famine) 
 
 For we love the dogs that we've got. 
 
 Hush, says the people, don't write any more, 
 
 Thats taking away our rights 
 To say I shan't guard my front door ; 
 
 Especially these dark stormy nights. 
 
 The man in the moon is the only man 
 That dogs scare away from the house; 
 
 For moonlit nights he barks and fights : 
 Dark nights, he's still as a mouse. 
 
 Of course we all have some fault. 
 This is true as the earth does revolve ; 
 
 And just where to call a halt 
 Is a problem for wisdom to solve. 
 
 Now comes the dog question next, 
 How shall we deal with it friends? 
 
 To take dogs, dogs, dogs, for a text. 
 
 Has been throwing good words to the winds. 
 
A Collection of Poetry and Prose. 55 
 
 WHY SHE THREW HER LOVE LIGHT AT ME? 
 Dedicated to Miss Johannah Gorey of Montgomery, Ala. 
 
 Why she threw her love light at me 
 
 In the gloaming, yester eve; 
 Why she left me sad and lonely, 
 
 Why, to sorrow and to grieve? 
 
 Left my heart so hungry, hungry 
 
 For the lovelight of her eyes; 
 Shall I ever see her? ever 
 
 Till I mount the sunset skies? 
 
 Was it poverty moved her to look at me thus? 
 
 Or was it the loss of some earthly friend? 
 My Heavenly Father, I'll never know 
 
 Till we meet in that world; the world without 
 end. 
 
 Still I'll hope on though starving for love. 
 
 My poor soul will wander in darkness and 
 gloom ; 
 Till I see it again ; her lovelight again. 
 
 Till I see her and kiss her, my darling, my 
 bloom. 
 
 HURRY UP MISS INDA. 
 
 The master of the house is in the land of dreams 
 The night hawk is soaring, Oh, listen how he screams 
 
 Capt. Odum's gone to bed 
 
 His Saint Maria he long has wed, 
 The moon has risen righ 
 In the late October sky ; 
 My babe will call for mama bye and bye. 
 
 Hurry up Miss Inda 
 Let nothing hinder, 
 
 Time is flying 
 
 Your lover is sighing 
 Francis is crying; 
 May's gone and soon comes December. 
 
56 The Hard Times Edition. 
 
 LINES FROM AN OLD BACHELOR. 
 
 These lines are from an old bachelor who claims that 
 the human heart has its different stages or change and 
 that after a certain time is sweetened (like the growth 
 and ripeneing of sugar cane) that when that period ap- 
 proaches the heart is made sweet and ripe and will then 
 begin to love the young life. If we have none of our own 
 to love we will love everybody's children. He is right, 
 this is my experience. Most old bachelors and I will in- 
 clude old maids (only by observation) love children when 
 this ripening process has been reached, I believe it is 
 God's punishment on us for not obeying that divine com- 
 mand : "Thou shalt increase and multiply thy seed in the 
 earth." He makes us love the precious little ones just to 
 tantalize us he says. He also claims that there are only 
 two pictures that man really loves, viz : number one and 
 number two. Number one is a beautiful woman and num- 
 ber two is mother with her darling in her arms. 
 
 They say I don't love you, you dear little thing 
 Cause I'm an old bachelor and still on the wing; 
 They are badly mistaken my precious child, 
 
 For the absence of your love has run me quite 
 wild. 
 
 Since God has not blessed me with those of my own 
 He has ripened this old heart and caused it to 
 groan ; 
 
 And I call you mine, you all belong to me, 
 I claim you by the right of eternity. 
 
 What is sweeter in this world 
 
 Than a little baby girl? 
 And that darling boy 
 
 Is another earthly joy. 
 
 Just to say at what age they're sweeter than all, 
 I think every moment (except when they squall;) 
 
 Of course they will cry when they want to be fed 
 Also when you wash them to put them to bed. 
 
A Collection of Poetry and Prose. 57 
 
 And I suppose they'll get sick sometimes 
 
 Which adds one more verse to the nursery rhymes ; 
 
 But soon they get well after tossing awhile 
 They repay you in full with their prattle and 
 smile. 
 
 When they wake in the morning and look up at you 
 Move tiny hands and feet, then begin to coo; 
 
 Don't tell me of cherubs and angels of light 
 For you have them all there in that baby so 
 bright. 
 
 WHEN THE LOVELIGHT IS SHINING. 
 
 When the lovelight is shining from out her blue eyes 
 And the white doves are calling their mates from the 
 skies ; 
 
 Its then we adore her with manhoods devotion, 
 
 Would venture our lives for this wild heart's emotion. 
 
 Beg to state that when I wrote the above verse her 
 eyes were blue they have since changed to brown. 
 
 When the lovelight is shining from out her brown eyes 
 
 Its just as lovely as that of the blue; 
 Just so its the lovelight that comes from the skies, 
 
 That lovelight, that lovelight, so tender and true. 
 
 It makes no difference what color the eyes are 
 
 When the lovelight is shining, you can't despise her; 
 
 Throw up your hands men, its no use to fight. 
 If she uses her broadsword (irristible lovelight.) 
 
i;t)c parij'S JIappp tKfiougijt 
 
 "Soon we'll reach the shining river" 
 Soon our pilgrimage will cease ; 
 
 Soon our happy hearts will quiver 
 With the melody of peace." 
 
SEP 2 \m