V* 
 
 :_,_^ili.— 
 
 t »gocx?ooccoo«g»«»g«««««««;s 
 
Unpolished 
 Pebbles 
 
 A Collection of 
 Original Poems 
 
 ^ 
 
 By A^ JP a> LOWE 
 
 
 (S 
 

 COPYRIGHTED 1921 
 By a. J. C. LOWE 
 
 DEC -7 !92! 
 glCi.A630637 
 
DEDICATED 
 
 To those that have proven true, 
 That inspired, encouraged me. 
 Especially do I dedicate 
 To "Patrons of Husbandry." 
 
INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 Just a few unpolished pebbles, 
 Tossed from memories strand, 
 
 If their rays bring^ cheer or comfort, 
 Things will be as I have planned. 
 
 This old world seems full of shadows, 
 But let's cast away the gloom. 
 
 True, we know when we reach Heaven 
 For such things there won't be room, 
 
 — By the Author. 
 
 BONNIE HOME FARM 
 
 A. J. C. Lowe 
 Mound City, Kansas 
 
TABLE OF CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE NO. 
 
 Slap 'Er in Reverse 7 
 
 Since I Owned Liz 8 
 
 Let Good Enough Alone 9 
 
 Things Don't Taste the Same 10 
 
 Just Feed Him Gooseberry Pie 12 
 
 They Left the Farm 14 
 
 What Good Is That to You? 17 
 
 Like Shadows on the Wall 18 
 
 Watched Myself Go By 19 
 
 Noonday of Life - 20 
 
 Between the Lines - 21 
 
 Cookin' in the Kitchen - 22 
 
 We Can Do It 24 
 
 Dame Fortune Turns the Switch - 25 
 
 Uncle Bob's Soliloquy 26 
 
 My Sympathy , 28 
 
 The Grip '. 29 
 
 The Other Side 30 
 
 Lumbago 31 
 
 Lullaby 32 
 
 JimpsonGrey 33 
 
 If 36 
 
 "Biddy," My Old Speckled Hen 37 
 
 My Standby 39 
 
 Just Want to Feather Their Nest 40 
 
 My Creed 41 
 
 Rainy Day 43 
 
 The Profiteer 44 
 
 Essentials of Home 45 
 
 Like Bubbles in the Sky 47 
 
 Dreaming... 49 
 
 This New Style Singing 50 
 
 My Rattle Box 51 
 
 Just Go To It 52 
 
 Battling the Bumble Bee 53 
 
 Looking Forward 55 
 
 Magic League - 56 
 
 Old Shawnee 58 
 
 Chance of Preordination 59 
 
 I'm Going to See Mother 60 
 
 Beautiful, Beautiful Heaven 61 
 
 Memory's Corner 62 
 
SLAP 'ER IN REVERSE. 
 
 When the wind is howling 'round your door 
 
 And snow a drifting in, 
 Do you wring your hands and moan, 
 
 Or do you shout and grin? 
 
 When you're feeling kinder down and out 
 And inclined to have the blues 
 
 Would you like for your company 
 A herd the same as you? 
 
 When things go wrong, just try a song; 
 
 Don't go from bad to worse; 
 Just keep your mind and neutral find 
 
 And slap 'er in reverse. 
 
 Just make a test, do your best 
 And cease those ills to nurse; 
 
 Just make a pass, shut down the gas, 
 And slap 'er in reverse. 
 
 Don't dwell upon your ailments; 
 
 Why, don't you understand 
 That looking, talking of a thing 
 
 Will bring the same to hand? 
 
 When you find a fellow cranky 
 
 And mad enough to curse. 
 You know he's headed for the rocks; 
 
 Just slap 'er in reverse. 
 
You'll be surprised to see the change 
 
 Wroug-ht in a little while, 
 He will soon forget his crabiness 
 
 And then begin to smile. 
 
 Your mind and will is sure the pill 
 
 To keep away the hearse, 
 The doc. keep out with laugh and shout; 
 
 Just slap 'er in reverse. 
 
 So don't forget our motto, 
 It will all your woes immerse; 
 
 When things seem going kinder wrong 
 Just slap 'er in reverse. 
 
 SINCE I OWNED LIZ. 
 
 ^... — „.- 
 
 Since IVe owned Liz, IVe done more biz 
 
 And had more frolics too 
 Than you can guess; but I'll confess 
 
 She's always pulled us through. 
 
 Sometimes in low, she mosies slow. 
 
 But finally she moves on; 
 What does she care, although I swear 
 
 And have my watch to pawn. 
 
 To buy more oil, more gas to spoil, 
 
 8 
 
That we may farther roam; 
 Till a blowout both loud and stout 
 Just makes us fret and foam. 
 
 But that's all right, don't show your fright, 
 But that's alright, don't show your fright, 
 
 We need to rest a spell; 
 Don't even cough, we're better off 
 
 To spend a while in hell. 
 
 I'm sure a rube; I have no tube, 
 
 I've used my patches too; 
 No need to fuss, your temper muss, 
 
 There's just one thing to do. 
 
 Jump in ma; kids, mind your pa; 
 
 We still can show some vim; 
 Liz, hit the pike, and homeward hike, 
 
 We'll go in on the rim. 
 
 ^ 
 
 LET GOOD ENOLPGH ALONE. 
 
 How sad to think, while on the brink 
 
 Of manhood, nearly grown; 
 While growing tall we lost the call 
 
 "Let good enough alone." 
 
 But many though, sure lose their dough. 
 That could this fate atone, 
 
 9 
 
Now they know from bitter woe 
 "Let good enough alone." 
 
 But there's the pall, they lose it all 
 Where once their light it shone; 
 
 They simply gaze for means and ways 
 "To let good enough alone." 
 
 They acted rash, they must eat hash, 
 
 Or gnaw the naked bone, 
 No need to tell their thoughts now spell 
 
 "Let good enough alone." 
 
 We spend our time in weaving rhyme, 
 
 Our cash is reckless sown. 
 Don't seem to know while on we sow 
 
 "Let good enough alone." 
 
 But mankind can change his mind. 
 
 He'll not long sit and moan. 
 Yes, one good fall can teach us all 
 
 "Let good enough alone." 
 
 THINGS DON'T TASTE THE SAME, 
 
 I begged my wife to take a trip. 
 Her folks and friends to see, 
 
 "Yes, sure, I'll keep house alright, 
 Need keep no tab on me. 
 
 10 
 
*^This is my leisure time you know, 
 I'll keep things spick and span, 
 
 You and the kiddies make the round 
 And just forget your man." 
 
 She took me at my word, by Jove, 
 
 And now I'm here alone 
 Eating biscuit I have baked, 
 
 That tastes just like a stone. 
 
 Somehow the pillows, too, are hard, 
 As I toss from left to right, 
 
 I'm not a drinking man, oh! no, 
 But I'm seeing things at night. 
 
 Things don't seem to taste the same 
 I've lost my good appetite. 
 
 Everything seems topsy-turvy, 
 I'm mad enough to fight. 
 
 Every morn when I arise 
 And try to clean things up. 
 
 The cat and I we cease to try; 
 Then we call in the pup. 
 
 He licks the plates that we have left 
 Then tears the curtains down; 
 
 Upsets a pan of batter dough. 
 And acts just like a clown. 
 
 I lost my hold and spilled the milk 
 Right on the parlor floor. 
 
 11 
 
The house is swarming with flies, 
 I failed to shut the door. 
 
 Things are in a frightful mess, 
 
 The chickens won't even lay, 
 IVe broken milk stools on the cows 
 
 Until now they run away. 
 
 Everything seems so awful still, 
 The birds have closed their song, 
 
 I sit and ponder what comes next, 
 The whole blamed farm seems wrong. 
 
 Fve done the very best I could, 
 
 But I had to give it up, 
 The house is being run today 
 
 By the kitten and the pup. 
 
 Dishes, pots and pans IVe used 
 
 Till they are dirty and smell like glue, 
 
 Seems like there's just one thing left 
 For a poorly cuss to do. 
 
 I'll try and secure an egg 
 
 By chasing around a hen; 
 Then fill my craw, just eat 'er raw 
 
 Inside the old pig pen. 
 
 JUST FEED HIM GOOSEBERRY PIE. 
 When I was a boy, 
 
 12 
 
Plumb full of joy, 
 
 My appetite ran pretty high; 
 Some way the word spread, 
 He doesn't like bread 
 
 But dearly loves gooseberry pie. 
 
 So wherever I went, 
 Far ahead they had sent, 
 
 (This message seemed fairly to fly) 
 ''Cal, soon will be there. 
 Just vary your fare — 
 
 Be sure and have gooseberry pie." 
 
 Yes, when I got there, 
 You could tell by the air 
 
 The good cook was going to try; 
 Just like the rest, , 
 Give me her best, 
 
 A big hunk of gooseberry pie. 
 
 So when I came in, 
 
 I could tell by their grin. 
 
 They'd have no occasion to sigh. 
 But how about me. 
 For I knew it must be 
 
 Just a feed on old gooseberry pie. 
 
 I believe at that hour, 
 What made me so sour 
 
 And often felt ready to die, 
 Was simply the fact 
 My nerves had been racked 
 
 From eating old gooseberry pie. 
 
 13 
 
But what could you do 
 When the host came to you? 
 
 Why I*d simply brag, and I'd lie. 
 Of all the rest 
 Your pie is the best; 
 
 Please pass me more gooseberry pie. 
 
 About this time in my life 
 I married my wife, 
 
 From the stuff I was longing to shy. 
 But Oh! for me feel; 
 Our very first meal 
 
 Consisted of gooseberry pie. 
 
 While I raved and I stormed, 
 The habit was formed. 
 
 Until now for the stuff I will cry; 
 If with me you would pull 
 Why first fill me full 
 
 Of a big piece of gooseberry pie. 
 
 THEY LEFT THE FARM. 
 
 I've just returned from the city, 
 Pretense was some hogs to sell. 
 
 But, really, I wanted to see old chums — 
 Jim, Pete, Ted, Irene, Susanne and Bell. 
 
 We all went to school together. 
 
 And since then I've viewed with alarm 
 
 14 
 
Just how it fared with my chummies, 
 Since they went away from the farm. 
 
 First one I saw was my old chum Jim, 
 Firmly gripping an old dinner pail, 
 
 But oh, what a change there had been 
 As I gazed on his shabby coat tail. 
 
 "Why, hello Jim," as I grabbed hold him of 
 him, 
 
 "Has the city made you rich?" 
 But all he would say, "I*m now on my way 
 
 To work in the sewer ditch." 
 
 And then I found Bell I sure hate to tell, 
 How she brazenly walked up the street; 
 
 Attired — well you bet, 1*11 never forget. 
 As I made a hasty retreat. 
 
 I learned that Irene was living serene. 
 With a dago she happened to meet; 
 
 She worked in foul air, at last sold her hair 
 That they might have something to eat. 
 
 Their home was an attic, foul and discrepit, 
 Two little weaklings played "sit in a box;" 
 
 They were shabby, dirty, peaked and lean. 
 With scanty wardrobe and no sox. 
 
 Next I found Ted, he was hand over head. 
 
 Dealing in money and bond; 
 Insomnia his share, I saw by his stare, 
 
 15 
 
As he inquired about the old swimming 
 pond. 
 
 And when I found Pete, I sure found a cheat. 
 
 He had been drinking and gambling as 
 well; 
 So steeped in sin, he was about to check in, 
 
 And sink to that bottomless hell. 
 
 I had to move fast, but Susanne at last 
 Was forced my presence to greet; 
 
 She dressed in great tog and led a pug dog 
 As she waddled along on the street. 
 
 I went to her home, found kiddies alone, 
 (She had married a man named St. Clair) 
 
 One kid got a thud from a big hunk of mud. 
 While the other lost part of his hair. 
 
 Now I'd found every one, my visit was done, 
 And I sure don't wish them no harm; 
 
 But I'm going to try by fair means or sly 
 To get them back home on the farm. 
 
 For there's an aged mother waiting for Jim, 
 
 And a lover longing for Bell; 
 The old pond for Ted, for Pete a soft bed. 
 
 And good things they all loved so well. 
 
 On the farm is fresh air, sunshine every- 
 where, 
 You can sleep when your labor is done, 
 
 16 
 
Midst the hum of bees, from the well laden 
 trees, 
 From the city, I swiftly did run. 
 
 WHAT GOOD IS THAT TO YOU? 
 
 This life is like a game of pool, 
 For each game the "chips" are due; 
 
 But if you fail to cash them in, 
 What good is that to you? 
 
 You may have thousands in the bank, 
 
 And diamonds not a few, 
 But if you fail to check them out, 
 
 What good are they to you? 
 
 You may have thoughts of noble deeds, 
 
 That you would like to do; 
 But if you never do them 
 
 What good is that to you? 
 
 Your preacher, he may preach for hours 
 
 And vent his narrow view. 
 But if he fails to lead the life 
 
 What good is that to you? 
 
 You may have malice in your heart, 
 
 Which is hate and envy too; 
 And think I'd like to even up, 
 
 How sad is that for you. 
 
 17 
 
So if you would get the best in life, 
 
 Just to yourself be true; 
 And listen to that voice within, 
 
 And never more be blue. 
 
 For heaven we know is just within. 
 That brings a brighter view; 
 
 And brightens up the path of life 
 The road that guides you through. 
 
 ^ 
 
 LIKE SHADOWS ON THE WALL. 
 
 From boyhood days long, long ago, 
 
 Things past I now recall; 
 They seem unreal and grotesque, 
 
 Like shadows on the wall. 
 
 The bridges in advance Fve crossed. 
 
 That did my heart appall, 
 Turned out to be fantastic things. 
 
 Like shadows on the wall. 
 
 IVe wavered here and halted there. 
 And met with many a fall; 
 
 But light and truth would soon dispel. 
 Those shadows on the wall. 
 
 That great old bugaboo of fear. 
 The ghost so grim and tall; 
 
 Has proven nothing more or less. 
 Than shadows on the wall. 
 
 18 
 
Just remember there are things in life 
 
 That have to come to all; 
 But truth and faith will dissipate 
 
 Those shadows on the wall. 
 
 ^ 
 
 WATCHED MYSELF GO BY. 
 
 I was theming for my fellowmen, 
 Telling them how to live and die; 
 
 When a small voice whispered unto me, 
 "Just watch yourself go by." 
 
 It took me rather by surprise; 
 
 But I hiked back to the shack 
 And as I looked I saw myself^ — 
 
 One of the common pack. 
 
 I saw in looking at myself 
 
 The swagger wasn't true; 
 I'd falter here, and waver there, 
 
 Scarce knovnng what to do. 
 
 While I sat there and saw myself 
 
 And made my retrospect; 
 I saw how full my life had been, 
 
 Of folly and neglect. 
 
 I saw myself as I really was 
 For the first time in my life; 
 
 19 
 
And wondered how it came about 
 That I had fooled my wife. 
 
 I also saw the noble deeds 
 
 That I had left undone; 
 My life's work seemed so small — 
 
 Something I'd like to shun. 
 
 And as I watched myself go by 
 
 I let this truth sink in, 
 "Just watch yourself, don't think about 
 
 The other fellow's sin." 
 
 ^^ 
 
 NOONDAY OF LIFE. 
 
 Are we nearing the noon of life? 
 
 Are we ascending up the slope? 
 Or are we on the last decline. 
 
 Devoid of pep and hope? 
 
 Can we say the way looks brighter 
 
 Than it ^ver did before? 
 Life's burdens have grown lighter 
 
 And we love it more and more? 
 
 That, as we near the noonday. 
 
 Entitled to joy and rest, 
 Can we truthfully tell our fellowmen 
 
 We've done our level best? 
 
 20 
 
Have we worked along with others, 
 Adding to life's store of joy; 
 
 Or must we know our portion 
 Has been but base alloy? 
 
 V.'e are always nearing the noonday, 
 When our hearts are right within; 
 
 V/hen we're doing good for others, 
 We free ourselves from sin. 
 
 # 
 
 BETWEEN THE LINEnS. 
 
 Ofttimes the deepest meaning 
 Lies between the lines, you know, 
 
 Like verdant green, oft sheltered, 
 Beneath the downy snow. 
 
 We ofttimes miss the grandeur 
 
 Of the sunset's after glow. 
 Because we were just napping; 
 
 In other words, too slow. 
 
 Don't think that all pretty things 
 
 Are midst the posies rare, 
 You'll find them 'neath the rugged rocks; 
 
 They're nestling everywhere. 
 
 Yes, looking for the best there is, 
 To win from life's broad field, 
 
 21 
 
Let's use the powers of God within, 
 And nature's locks will yield. 
 
 So it is with all God's work 
 That seems to some unfair; 
 
 Read between the lines you'll see 
 He's dealing on the square. 
 
 ^ 
 
 COOKIN' IN THE KITCHEN. 
 
 Know they're cookin' in the kitchen 
 By the smellin's in the air, 
 
 Why, the scent of pies and cookies 
 Is a floatin' everywhere. 
 
 Ma just drove us from the kitchen, 
 But sis is in there, though; 
 
 And I'll bet twenty marbles 
 She's a-tastin' of the dough. 
 
 Funny they won't let a feller 
 Just watch them mix the stuff, 
 
 Towse and I must stay out here — 
 Things sure gettin' mighty tough. 
 
 I have to plug my nostrils up 
 Every time they start to cook, 
 
 My mouth begins to water 
 
 And it breaks my heart to look. 
 
 22 
 
The scent from that old oven door 
 
 Just makes my innards rise, 
 As I listen to the sizzling 
 
 Of those cookies and the pies. 
 
 Just sittin* here kinder thinkin', 
 
 Fer I^m sure a-goin' to try 
 To scheme some sort a plan 
 
 To swipe a cookie or a pie. 
 
 *'Maw, I want a drink of water!" 
 
 "Well, drink, then hurry out and play." 
 
 She was lookin' in the oven 
 As I scampered fast away. 
 
 Towse looked up as I came out, 
 (We'd played the game before), 
 
 We started for the barn, of course, 
 When ma came to the door. 
 
 And cried as loud as she could, 
 "Come here, my patient son, 
 
 See what I brought for you" — 
 As soon as they were done! 
 
 Towse and I sure hiked 'er back, 
 We made an awful racket; 
 
 Ma never did see those I'd hooked, 
 I'd hid them in my jacket. 
 
 23 
 
WE CAN DO IT. 
 
 Patrons, we have something good to do, 
 Let's not lean back in our pew; 
 Just get busy pull it through — 
 
 We can do it. 
 Let's just put old greed to rout, 
 Making a complete knockout; 
 Then we all may laugh and shout 
 
 We can do it. 
 
 Let's get busy, all saw wood, 
 Something for the farmer's good; 
 Bet we'll get it if we should. 
 
 We can do it. 
 Reward those that do the work, 
 Punish those that scheme and shirk; 
 Let them grovel in their murk, 
 
 We can do it. 
 
 Let us turn our mind to fun. 
 When our daily grind is done; 
 Making of life's cares a pun, 
 
 W^ can do it. 
 Cheer and laughter all the day. 
 Is like sunshine on the hay; 
 Best of coin will be our pay, 
 
 We can do it. 
 
 Let's just use our common sense; 
 Jump right off the party fence; 
 Stand united now and hence. 
 
 24 
 
We can do it. 
 The middle men we must cut out, 
 Put a co-operate ring in their snout; 
 (TheyVe already got the gout). 
 
 We can do it. 
 
 Just get jollies in your heart, 
 
 All together do our part, 
 
 Bound to see the good times start; 
 
 We can do it. 
 Yes, too long weVe all repined; 
 Let's be of a common mind; 
 Doing good for all mankind. 
 
 We can do it. 
 
 Someday we must say goodby; 
 Let's do good before we die. 
 Have some laurels then on high. 
 
 We can do it. 
 Good works tickle on the sly; 
 The Grange is cheer for you and I, 
 And brightens up the gloomy sky, 
 
 We can do it. 
 
 (Dedicated to Mound City Grange No. 1580.) 
 
 DAME FORTUNE TURNS THE SWITCH, 
 
 The politician says I'm as well as elected. 
 Why there can't be even a hitch; 
 
 25 
 
After returns are all counted he finds 
 Dame fortune turned the switch. 
 
 The young man's in love with a peachy girl; 
 
 "I'm sure a lucky wretch." 
 But she married another, don't you see; 
 Dame fortune turned the switch. 
 
 At the grand ball she was dancing, 
 Costumed, faultless to a stitch; 
 
 A step on her trail, oh! such a nail, 
 Dame fortune turned the switch. 
 
 There was an honest man 
 
 Headed right straight for the ditch, 
 When prohibition came along, you see 
 
 Dame fortune turned the switch. 
 
 Promoters, gamblers, deceivers and such, 
 Have oft tried this old dame to bewitch; 
 
 To find in the end, to her will they must bend, 
 For she has got hold of the switch. 
 
 So here is a rule that justly applies 
 To the poor as well as the rich; 
 
 Never give up, neither be cock sure — 
 Dame fortune may turn the switch. 
 
 UNCLE BOB'S SOLILOQUY. 
 
 Wife, Carrie, come sit ober here, 
 By dis poor niggah's side. 
 
 26 
 
Dis is der Ian' so day say 
 Whar liberty abide. 
 
 Day said in Kansas sure we'd fin' 
 
 Freedom and liberty. 
 But nott'n like dat sort a ting 
 
 Has cum ter you and me. 
 
 We jis wurk harder dan when slaves, 
 To keep wolves from de door; 
 
 For den we had jis lots to eat 
 And frolics by de score. 
 
 Mars Russel he provide de food 
 
 And arter business look. 
 I take care ob dem horses fine 
 
 And you dat famous cook. 
 
 But, here der drought, bugs and debts 
 
 Won't nebber let us be; 
 I'se gwine back ter deer creek 
 
 Down der in Tennessee. 
 
 And dar we'll build a cabin, 
 
 By dat opossum trail; 
 And once more see ole possum 
 
 Hanging by der tail. 
 
 Sure plant watermelon patch, 
 Whar those big elders grew. 
 
 Good Ian'! Caroline, jis think ob times 
 Awaitin' me and you! 
 
 27 
 
No, don't say we can't, Caroline, 
 
 Dat ting won't nebber do. 
 Dis' niggah's mind is sure made up, 
 
 Am bound to pull er through. 
 
 We'll get our duds and pickaninnies. 
 
 Hitch old Boxen to de cart; 
 And don't forget dat possum houn', 
 
 For in de morn we start. 
 
 We'll hang a big sign on de cart, 
 
 Wid dis ere sort er plea, 
 "Dis clear der line fer deer creek 
 
 Gwine back ter Tennessee, 
 
 (Written in memory of an ex-slave, Uncle Bob 
 Russel, and wife. Aunt Carrie.) 
 
 MY SYMPATHY. 
 
 When some one's sad, a-feeling bad. 
 
 Some one I always knew. 
 I'd like to say some kindly word 
 
 To drive away the blue. 
 
 But some way words are futile things 
 When the crepe is on the door. 
 
 When loved ones are sick or departed 
 For that other shore. 
 
 So I just gently press their hand 
 And they know I'm sorry too. 
 
 28 
 
It seems an awiul little thing, 
 But its the best that I can do. 
 
 1 know their faith is just like mine, 
 That they may meet again 
 
 In other state, in fairer clime, 
 Forever freed from pain. 
 
 So we silent pray, and little say, 
 Mere words would be in vain, 
 
 But leave them to that Holy One 
 Vv^ho for our sins was slain. 
 
 THE GRIP, 
 
 This thing that^s going the round. 
 
 The influenza, grip or cold; 
 Is like a bull pup, in the fact 
 
 It never leaves its hold. 
 
 It clingeth closer than a friend, 
 
 A brother or a debt; 
 And when you think youVe lost the thing 
 
 You find you have it yet. 
 
 It makes you cough and sneeze 
 
 And expectorate profuse; 
 The aches and pains so tarnal bad 
 
 They nearly kill the muse. 
 
 29 
 
They say it^s for to sweep your house 
 
 To make your innards clean; 
 Great Scott! I'd rather live in dirt 
 
 Than have to feel so mean. 
 
 But here it is you tell the world 
 
 No need to give it lip; 
 But just acknowledge first and last, 
 
 That you have got the grip. 
 
 THE OTHER SIDE 
 
 We all would be reformers, 
 
 That fact we can't deride; 
 The reforms are for the fellow 
 
 That's on the other side. 
 
 Funny we don't see ourselves 
 
 And know our shoe's untied; 
 Too busy looking at the one 
 
 Just on the other side. 
 
 Of course we are right, they are wrong; 
 
 This fact is not denied 
 By us, as we pass blindly by 
 
 Those on the other side. 
 
 Another case of sheer neglect 
 
 Of self conceit and pride; 
 Chin tilted back, we fail to see 
 
 Those on the other side. 
 
 30 
 
If we could just change places 
 And in their house abide, 
 
 We might more fully understand 
 Those on the other side. 
 
 But our cramped and narrow view 
 Makes it harder to decide 
 
 The rights of those who differ, 
 Just on the other side. 
 
 And reeling off our opinions 
 Perhaps they may collide 
 
 With the very foolish ( ? ) ones 
 Just on the other side. 
 
 If we could grasp our fellowmen 
 And freely in them confide, 
 
 We'd pave the way to heaven, 
 Just on the other side. 
 
 LUMBAGO 
 
 IVe got the queerest sort of thing 
 
 They call it lumbago. 
 When it comes right down to pain 
 
 You bet it isn't very slow. 
 
 It grips my hips and back and thigh, 
 And tries to pull them out; 
 
 Fve got to find some kind of dope 
 To put this thing to rout. 
 
 31 
 
Fve taken quinine by the peck 
 Until my head does roar; 
 
 Still every bone and nerve as well 
 Continue to be sore. 
 
 They say just grin and bear it, 
 I'll do the last all right, 
 
 But I find it mighty hard to grin, 
 Especially in bed at night. 
 
 I can't sit down, I can't stand up, 
 
 For any length of time, 
 It's about to spoil my temper, 
 
 And muddle up my rhyme. 
 
 Perhaps it's something I have ate. 
 Or something left undone; 
 
 I'm trying now to mix the stuff 
 Into a mess of fun. 
 
 LULLABY. 
 
 Baby, Oh! baby, you wee little morsel, 
 Mama and papa are watching you now; 
 
 Rockaby baby, go to sleep baby, 
 
 Outcome of our sweet marriage vow. 
 
 Fairies surround you, ever to guard you, 
 Vieing in earnest to each do their best; 
 
 32 
 
Rockaby baby, go to sleep baby, 
 
 Nestle your headie on mama's own breast. 
 
 Now off in dreamland, my, you are cozy. 
 Just close those winkers and go to sleep. 
 
 Rockaby baby, go to sleep baby. 
 
 Mama and papa their vigirwill keep. 
 
 Wake in the midnight, or with the sunlight, 
 Same papa and mama waiting for thee; 
 
 Rockaby baby, blessed of babies, 
 
 Nothing but beauty in thee can we see. 
 
 ^ 
 
 JIMPSON GREY. 
 
 I own a greyish little mule 
 
 His name is Jimpson Grey; 
 We bought him of old man Jimp 
 
 Before he moved away. 
 
 There is a little meeting house 
 
 Just across the way; 
 The place where "Lonesome Pete" 
 
 Was wont to go any pray. 
 
 When "Lonesome" prays he yells so loud 
 
 You hear him miles away; 
 Jimpson thinks his brother calls 
 
 And he begins to bray. 
 
 33 
 
Between the two they raise your hair^ 
 And make the valley shake, 
 
 Resembling in many ways 
 A genuine earthquake. 
 
 I admit I encouraged Jimp, 
 
 For when ^'Lonesome" began to pray 
 You'd see me start for Jimpson 
 
 With the choicest bits of hay. 
 
 He would sit back on his haunches 
 And bray with will and might, 
 
 Until one day, Pete came over here 
 Just mad enough to fight. 
 
 Gathering up life's sparkling dew; 
 He said Fd have to sell the mule, 
 
 Or he would move away; 
 I told him to do as he pleased, 
 
 But Jimp was going to stay. 
 
 Notice came from the court one day 
 That Jimp and I must there appear, 
 
 So I went marching into court 
 With Jimpson by the ear. 
 
 The people took a holiday. 
 
 For miles and miles around; 
 The room was rammed jam full 
 No more space could be found. 
 
 The sheriff rapped for order, 
 And everyone sat down 
 
 34 
 
Except old Jimp and he stood there 
 Like the mayor of the town. 
 
 The Judge arose sedate and solemnly: 
 "Let all arise, this is a natal day;'^ 
 
 And having notions of his own 
 Asked ^^Lonesome" for to pray. 
 
 Then "Lonesome" raised his mighty voice 
 
 And started in full sway, 
 When Jimp sat down threw back his ears 
 
 And of course began to bray. 
 
 They tried to drown each other's voice, 
 They made the building shake; 
 
 The Judge just held his sides and laughed 
 Until I thought his bones would break. 
 
 But in thirty minutes by my watch, 
 "Lonesome" had fainted away; 
 
 Jimpson immediately cooled down 
 No further need to bray. 
 
 They finally brought old "Lonesome" to, 
 While I fed Jimp more hay; 
 
 And these are the very words 
 The Judge was heard to say: 
 
 **It has been proven in this court, 
 When shouts and rantings cease 
 
 That even this mule has sense enough. 
 To try to keep the peace." 
 
 35 
 
"Bro. Lonesome you can corral your voice 
 Yvhen you^re called on to pray, 
 
 But the mule, he will have to yell, 
 Because he's built that way." 
 
 Old ''Lonesome" moved to Idaho, 
 
 How sad, he burst his lungs one day, 
 
 I'm feeding Jimp son alum now 
 To pucker up his bray. 
 
 ^ 
 
 IF. 
 
 I'm going to say a few things. 
 
 May seem a little queer; 
 But after you define them 
 
 The truth will soon appear. 
 
 If each would cast a pebble 
 In the mud holes on the side. 
 
 In just a very little while 
 We all could safely ride. 
 
 If all who could, would shelter 
 Just one helpless orphan child. 
 
 All homes would soon be brighter, 
 Our climate be more mild. 
 
 If greed should cease its grasping 
 And help the other one, 
 
 B& 
 
They really would be better off, 
 And all would have more fun. 
 
 If we'd dispense with "furbelows*' 
 And "broadtail" coats as well; 
 
 Then we'd be moving in the path 
 That leads away from hell. 
 
 If each day we'd drop a penny 
 For some worthy noble cause, 
 
 We would be doing something grand 
 And worthy of applause. 
 
 If we'd just think for ourselves. 
 
 And from the politicians hide; 
 You'd see the masses arm in arm, 
 
 Just like a groom and bride. 
 
 If wrongs are ever righted, 
 Christ's law must sure abide; 
 
 We must reach the poor and needy. 
 That's on the down hill slide. 
 
 ^ 
 
 "BIDDY," MY OLD SPECKLED HEN. 
 
 I've rhymed about almost everything, 
 
 From piggies unto men; 
 And now wife says it's time, 
 
 To write about the hen. 
 
 37 
 
I must confess this dainty miss, 
 
 Is coming to the front; 
 And has old piggy beat a mile, 
 
 In every thing but grunt. 
 
 She has the bearing of a queen, 
 I think she ranks the same; 
 
 But engages in a different biz, 
 Without the shame or blame. 
 
 Her hub. is monarch of the yard, 
 Of course he^d strut and crow. 
 
 He knows his wife cannot be beat 
 No matter where you go. 
 
 At morn she hustles from her roost, 
 
 And seeks food with zest; 
 Then all at once you see her start 
 
 In rapture for her nest. 
 
 And there she lays the pretty ones 
 That pile the basket high, 
 
 From which come omelets, puddings 
 And such good old custard pie. 
 
 We eat them boiled, fried or raw, 
 We eat them every way; 
 
 Believe me this biddy dear 
 Is mostly our main stay. 
 
 Sihe sets the table, clothes the kids, 
 And furnishes the fry; 
 
 38 
 
But boy, oh boy! how fine she looks, 
 In making^ chicken pie. 
 
 Now should I chance to leave this life 
 And dwell amongst the fair; 
 
 I don't think I'd feel just right 
 If biddy isn't there. 
 
 MY STAND-BY. 
 
 And now, dear wife, I think of you, 
 
 Perhaps it's not the time; 
 But I've decided to make you 
 
 The victim of my rhyme. 
 
 I shall start to call you names, 
 
 Don't neither laugh or cry. 
 You know it's true, you know you are 
 
 My little ovvoi "stand-by." 
 
 When drought appeared and crops were 
 dwarfed. 
 
 And poverty stood nigh. 
 You helped me with your work and word. 
 
 My little own stand-by. 
 
 Yes, stood by me when all else failed, 
 When friends and cash were shy. 
 
 You were the beacon of my life; 
 My little own stand-by. 
 
 39 
 
Together have braved many a storm, 
 
 With laughter and with sigh; 
 But here's to you, youVe proven true, 
 
 My little own stand-by. 
 
 We have secrets the world don't know, 
 We are bound by love's firm tie; 
 
 As arm in arm through life we go. 
 My little own stand-by. 
 
 And in the future years to come, 
 
 I'm always going to try, 
 To cherish, comfort and adore 
 
 My little own stand-by. 
 
 Should I be first to reach the gate. 
 
 That stands ajar on high; 
 You'll find me longing, waiting for 
 
 My little own stand-by. 
 
 (Written and dedicated to his beloved wife.) 
 
 JUST WANT TO FEATHER THEIR NEST. 
 
 My boy, in this life, in the midst of the strife, 
 You're apt to succeed for the best; 
 
 If you steer clear of glib tounged promoters 
 Who are trying to feather their nest. 
 
 I've gone up and down this world all around. 
 And some things I've put to the test; 
 
 40 
 
And one's to pick out the sunny gun, 
 That's trying to feather his nest. 
 
 I hate to say it, but here I declare it, 
 
 Guised in friendship IVe been near car- 
 ressed; 
 
 By slickers and glib tongue promoters 
 Just trying to feather their nest. 
 
 Sometimes they get breezy and think you 
 dead easy, 
 And usually commence with a jest. 
 Just hug close your down and give them a 
 frown. 
 For they are trying to feather their nest. 
 
 Then again they get dirgy, and sound like the 
 clergy. 
 
 Just fresh from the realms of the blest; 
 But watch them my boy, 'tis but alloy. 
 
 They are just trying to feather their nest. 
 
 MY CREED. 
 
 IVe oft been asked, ''What is your creed?" 
 
 Well, I have this to say — 
 Far more depends upon your works 
 
 Than ever does on pray. 
 
 You may pray in saintly form. 
 Until this life is through; 
 
 41 
 
But if you fail to come across, 
 It matters not with you. 
 
 When you die where will you be? 
 
 That's something I don't know, 
 I'm worried more in how I live 
 
 While walking here below. 
 
 I don't care for a mansion great 
 
 Nor for this worldly fame, 
 But I'd like to do some worthy deed 
 
 To help the sick and lame. 
 
 I'd like to ease their sorrow, 
 And make their life sublime, 
 
 By word or deed, place them 
 In a happy, sunny clime. 
 
 1 want to help my fellow men 
 Secure just what they need. 
 
 Not what they want, for that you know 
 Would be another creed. 
 
 For some want all the earth and sky, 
 
 All beneath the sea; 
 Regardless of the dire results 
 
 It brings to you and me. 
 
 Here's my creed, find what you need 
 
 To make this life sublime; 
 I'll do my best, and leave the rest 
 
 For higher powers than mine. 
 
 42 
 
BONNIE HOME FARM 
 
 It's not a costly palace rare, 
 
 Nor grandeur here you see; 
 But just a quiet little nook, 
 
 For kiddies, wife and me. 
 
 Our home is bonnie, for it's gay, 
 
 Where happily we live; 
 To share the flowers, sun and showers, 
 
 That nature has to give. 
 
 There are many things in life's great store 
 
 That we may never share; 
 But listen, we own Bonnie Home 
 
 With plenty of fresh air. 
 
 'Tis here you see fine cows and calves, 
 
 Horses, chicks and piggies too; 
 And may see the very spot 
 
 Where those fine melons grew. 
 
 At Bonnie Home will spend our days, 
 Will try and keep this old home shack. 
 Unless wife gets lazy too. 
 
 # 
 
 RAINY DAY. 
 
 That rainy day we talk about, 
 I wish it would never come, 
 
 43 
 
It magnifies our griefs so much 
 And puts joy on the bum. 
 
 It turns life's wine into mud, 
 And shuts out lots of fun, 
 
 I wish it would in China stay, 
 Until this life is done. 
 
 What is the use of making plans. 
 Or starting sometlang gay; 
 
 For just as surely as you do, 
 There comes that rainy day. 
 
 Yes, rainy days will come to all, 
 No need to heave a sigh; 
 
 For if you now escape them, 
 You'll have them by and by. 
 
 THE PROFITEER. 
 
 For years I have been dealing 
 With swine as well as men. 
 
 Until now I look with favor 
 On poor piggy in the pen. 
 
 I used to think man far above. 
 For him Td drop my vote; 
 
 But since I've sized them better 
 I'll cast it for the shoat. 
 
 44 
 
Just give a pig lots of run, 
 With all he wants to eat; 
 
 He is contented, grateful, kind, 
 In fact he's hard to beat. 
 
 But watch this other old biped, 
 Just give them all they need. 
 
 They still demand the earth and sky. 
 To satisfy their greed. 
 
 They scheme and can get laws, 
 
 This seems a little queer, 
 Now this doesn't include you, 
 
 It means the profiteer. 
 
 ^ 
 
 ESSENTIALS OF HOME 
 
 The essentials of a home 
 
 As I've condensed, defined. 
 Consists principally of happiness 
 
 And a contented mind. 
 
 I've known the poorest of the poor, 
 Could scarce afford corn bread; 
 
 Laugh and sing, praise God their King, 
 Then tumble into bed. 
 
 I've known the richest of the rich 
 Seek vices of the street; 
 
 45 
 
With house (not home) filled jam full 
 Of clothes and things to eat. 
 
 The great essentials of a home 
 
 Are love and cheerfulness, 
 Emitting sunshine everywhere 
 
 Without the frills and fuss. 
 
 Home not filled with love and cheer 
 
 Is sure a frightful mess, 
 Something to be spurned and shunned 
 
 I frankly must confess. 
 
 Home should be a refuge sweet. 
 Where all may safely dwell, 
 
 Devoid of all those naughty things 
 We'd be ashamed to tell. 
 
 Where ma and pa and boys and girls 
 
 Together all play tag. 
 Inclined to jolly all the time 
 
 And never chew the rag. 
 
 Some think a wife and seven kids 
 
 Essential for the fun. 
 While others want a lop-eared hound 
 
 And an old repeating gun. 
 
 The poor think lots of wealth 
 
 Will bring content and banish care; 
 
 The rich, they know from bitter woe 
 The essential isn't there. 
 
 46 
 
Of course our home can't always be 
 
 Tiptop, spick, span and neat. 
 But love and cheer will make of it 
 
 A haven of retreat. 
 
 One essential of a contented home 
 
 Is a well filled trundle bed. 
 Where innocence and peace repose 
 
 After their prayers are said. 
 
 Now let's help ma and pa 
 
 Heap up the dinner trough 
 Then get the mood of "Home Sweet Home'* 
 
 Wliere'ere your hat is off. 
 
 ^ 
 
 LIKE BUBBLES IN THE SKY. 
 
 Men are prone to chase the rainbow, 
 Seeking for that pot of gold; 
 
 When at last they think they have it 
 Simply bubbles they behold. 
 
 Oh! the time that has been wasted 
 
 Without murmer or a sigh, 
 Swiftly running, ever running, 
 
 After bubbles in the sky. 
 
 Think you are about to grasp them 
 As they gently hover nigh; 
 
 47 
 
All at once they burst and vanish 
 Like the bubbles in the sky. 
 
 My cork goes under; what a whopper! 
 
 We are bound to have a fry, 
 But, when we jerk he*s gone, you see, 
 
 Like the bubbles in the sky. 
 
 He wants a wife and falls in love — 
 Her enameled face and waterfall. 
 
 But off they come, her beauty gone 
 Like bubbles, that is all. 
 
 She marries a rakish looking dude. 
 With cane and one glass eye, 
 
 He proved a senseless, flimsy thing 
 Like bubbles in the sky. 
 
 He changed his farm for patent rights, 
 
 And tried them on the sly; 
 But they proved to be nothing more 
 
 Than bubbles in the sky. 
 
 He bought a mild eyed looking mule 
 
 And tried his tail to tie. 
 He last was seen a-mingling with 
 
 Those bubbles in the sky. 
 
 There are themes and doctrines plenty, 
 We may find though, when we die, 
 
 We have just been chasing phantoms, 
 Like the bubbles in the sky. 
 
 48 
 
So let's gain from this a lesson, 
 
 One applied to you and I; 
 Just forget this foolish chasing 
 
 After bubbles in the sky. 
 
 DREAMING. 
 
 Dreaming, dreaming, ever dreaming; 
 
 Oh! how sweet it is to me, 
 To be sailing mid the visions 
 
 Of the great eternity. 
 
 Just to drop your flimsy trouble. 
 Sing and dance in fairly land, 
 
 Midst blooming flowers and sunshine. 
 With the happy elfish band. 
 
 Then again when dreams are dismal. 
 Imps and dragons round you teeming. 
 
 What a joy you find on waking. 
 
 Just to know you have been dreaming. 
 
 Some say he's an idle dreamer. 
 
 Seeking illusions is his part. 
 But we know of great inventions 
 
 From a dreamer got their start. 
 
 In our dreams we sure draw nearer, 
 
 Guided by that spirit love. 
 Furnished keys so vaults unopen 
 
 With their secrets from above. 
 
 49 
 
Sweetly dreams I now remember 
 Loving visions I behold. 
 
 I would not erase, deface them 
 For a pot of shining gold. 
 
 THIS NEW STYLE SINGING. 
 
 This high-falutin* singing 
 They are pulling off today, 
 
 Gives a man the "Jimmy Jams" 
 And makes his hair turn gray. 
 
 IVe heard the wild hyena. 
 
 And the coyote's unearthly yell; 
 
 But this squealish singing of today 
 Has got them beat to h- . 
 
 You think it is a horse rasp, 
 A-running up your back; 
 
 When along comes another strain 
 Your nerves and brain to rack. 
 
 My pigs are sure great squealers, 
 And of course are now in style; 
 
 But for right down screetching 
 They have been beat a mile. 
 
 If they need a change, the old kind, 
 Just on me place your tags. 
 
 I have a voice like thunder 
 
 When it comes to chewing rags. 
 
 50 
 
Why can't they sing the old songs 
 In meters soft and slow? 
 
 So those that's forced to listen 
 Can understand and know. 
 
 If the time should ever come 
 When I can take a hand, 
 
 You bet they'll sing the old songs 
 We all can understand. 
 
 ^ 
 
 MY RATTLE BOX. 
 
 I drive a thing some call a Ford. 
 
 Distinguished by its knocks. 
 They call my pet all kinds of names 
 
 But it's my Rattle Box. 
 
 You ought to see the times we have, 
 
 With this plaything of mine, 
 We have a frolic night and day, 
 
 We surely make a shine. 
 
 We are using lots of gas and grease. 
 Will have no mon. when life shall cease; 
 
 But we will banish care and fear 
 As long as Rattle Box is here. 
 
 We first go here and then go there. 
 We never take time to comb our hair. 
 
 We eat our taters rare or raw. 
 
 Can scarcely take the time to gnaw. 
 
 51 
 
Sometimes our clothes are wrong' side out. 
 And put on shoes without our sox. 
 
 But what's the dif.? Forget it all; 
 We're off in our old Rattle Box. 
 
 ^ 
 
 JUST GO TO IT. 
 
 If youVe something kind to say, 
 Don't wait for another day; 
 It may swiftly glide away, 
 
 Just go to it. 
 Or just sing a lively song, 
 rt will help a poorly one along; 
 Place them midst the happy throng, 
 
 Just go to it. 
 
 Have you jollies in your heart. 
 Then get busy, do your part; 
 You will see the laughter start 
 
 If you do it. 
 Cheer and laughter all the day 
 Is like sunshine on the hay. 
 Best of coin will be your pay 
 
 Just go do it. 
 
 Can you run and jump the rope, 
 Dishing out the funny dope. 
 Nothing with old joy can cope. 
 Just go do it. 
 
 52 
 
Can you turn a somersault, 
 Back and forth without a halt, 
 If you don% you're sure at fault 
 Just go do it. 
 
 Can you turn your mind to fun, 
 When your daily grind is done. 
 Making of life's cares a pun. 
 
 Then go to it. 
 For it tickles on the sly. 
 Brings new cheer for you and I, 
 Brightens up a gloomy sky. 
 
 Just go to it. 
 
 If youVe something good to do, 
 Don't lean way back in your pew; 
 You can surely pull it through. 
 
 Just go to it. 
 You may conquer every foe. 
 If just kindness you will show; 
 No more sorrow will you know. 
 
 Just go to it. 
 
 BATTLING THE BUMBLE BEE. 
 
 Yes, there's the hero who fights for his home. 
 
 And even goes over the sea; 
 Who flees at sight of the dental chair. 
 
 Or the buzz of the bumble bee. 
 
 So here's to the lad with the shingle bat 
 And his pants badly frayed at the knee; 
 
With his father's hat and old cravat, 
 That battles the bumble bee. 
 
 He sallies forth to the meadows far away, 
 With companions a score or more. 
 
 Hearts that're light and spirits gay 
 But barefooted feet that are sore: 
 
 With whoop and yell, a regular pellmell, 
 They are into the midst of the fray; 
 
 He hasn't time to sound the knell 
 Nor he hasn't got time to pray. 
 
 Give it to them boys! his cry, 
 
 His comrades, where are they? 
 Ask of the huddled heaps in the distance lie 
 
 Neath the shocks of the new mown hay. 
 
 He swats them left, and he swats them right, 
 With a valor that's hard to beat, 
 
 "I'll kill them, if it takes all night; 
 I'll never make retreat." 
 
 They sting him here and they sting him there, 
 
 They sting him everywhere. 
 They find his exposed arms and legs. 
 
 They even sting his hair. 
 
 But the battle is o'er, the victory won, 
 
 Around the dead and dying lay. 
 Now the comrades come on the run. 
 
 From underneath the hay. 
 
 54 
 
And tell the world how they fought and killed, 
 
 And what a great boy am I; 
 While the real hero homeward goes 
 
 Badly done but never a sigh. 
 
 Like many a private who gave his life, 
 While engaged in our world's great fray. 
 
 His country will live but the praises they give 
 To the comrades who hid in the hay. 
 
 With eyes swelled shut and cheeks that're wet. 
 
 From tears that unbidden stsLvt, 
 He proudly wends his homeward way 
 
 Where mother will do her part. 
 
 She uses soda, salt and salves, 
 
 And puts some plasters on; 
 And whispers with her goodnight kiss 
 
 "I'm proud of you, my son." 
 
 So here's to the boy with the shingle bat 
 And his pants badly frayed at the knee; 
 
 With his father's hat and old cravat 
 That battles the bumble bee. 
 
 (In memory of a great encounter.) 
 
 ^ 
 
 LOOKING FORWARD, 
 
 Looking forward, never backward. 
 That's a motto sound and true. 
 
 55 
 
Something soothing for the heartaches, 
 So often come to me and you. 
 
 Never turn around like poor Lot's wife, 
 Mourning over things thatVe past; 
 
 But have courage to look forward, 
 For those heavenly things that last. 
 
 They may call you an idle dreamer; 
 
 But before this life is through. 
 If you just keep looking forward, 
 
 They will see your dreams come true. 
 
 No need to worry over past things. 
 They are gone and gone for good; 
 
 Some, perhaps, we'd like to change them, 
 Some, we would not if we could. 
 
 So don't forget our little motto. 
 As through life you onward go. 
 
 It will lighten up your burdens. 
 And help conquer every foe. 
 
 MAGIC LEAGUE. 
 
 The only son of one of seven, 
 (So my mother said); 
 I was born months after 
 My father had been dead. 
 
 56 
 
They say this gives magic powers, 
 To one that's so possessed, 
 Here's hoping so, for then I know 
 The world will soon be blest. 
 
 For I shall use my mystic powers, 
 To form a magic league; 
 Do away with sorrow, pain and death. 
 All gambling and intrigue. 
 
 We will cure the cripple, feed the poor, 
 Sure pile the furnace high. 
 A cozy corner for old age. 
 And feed them all on pie. 
 
 Would give the world an outing 
 As they had never had before, 
 And have a Ford car standing 
 At everybody's door. 
 
 Would hike away to easy land, 
 With never a sigh or care. 
 And have a lasting frolic 
 Mid sunshine and fresh air. 
 
 You may now join my magic league, 
 Too long, we've all repined. 
 Just crank old "Liz," get down to biz, 
 Before you change your mind. 
 
 S7 
 
OLD SHAWNEE. 
 
 So youVe moved back to old Shawnee, 
 The town of Indian fame, 
 Rosedale and other little hubs 
 Of course look rather tame. 
 
 There was a longing in your heart 
 That wouldn't let you be. 
 A voice kept ringing in your ear, 
 "Go back to old Shawnee." 
 
 So we made up our minds, 
 It was mutual, don't you see? 
 To sell our Rosedale home 
 And hike for dear Shawnee. 
 
 And now here we are, happy and gay. 
 Our sorrows all did flee 
 The moment we crossed our threshold 
 In our home at old Shawnee. 
 
 The millionaire we envy not, 
 He may own the earth and sea; 
 As long as we hold a title clear 
 To our home in old Shawnee. 
 
 And as we smoke our pipe in peace, 
 
 Admire our garden, shrub and tree; 
 
 We will ever bless the time that we 
 
 Moved back to old Shawnee. 
 
 (Written to his step-sister on her return from Rosedale 
 to Shawnee.) 
 
 58 
 
CHANCE OR PREORDINATION. 
 
 This life is not a game of chance! 
 We have heard that oft before. 
 Perhaps you're right; then tell me why 
 Dame fortune shuns my door. 
 
 If everything is preordained 
 For women and for men, 
 Let's not use our time and lungs 
 To change this mighty plan. 
 
 While some are very poor in life 
 And others very rich, 
 We can account for this you know; 
 Dame fortune turned the switch. 
 
 Men start to war, some to return, 
 We never know just which. 
 It all depends upon the way 
 Dame fortune turns the switch. 
 
 Is that the view you entertain? 
 Or do you think perchance 
 That some are destined to escape 
 The bullets, sword and lance? 
 
 While some will always crippled be, 
 Deformed and racked with pain, 
 Does this come from the mighty power 
 And does He thus ordain? 
 
 Don't tell me this, my honored sis, 
 It would be a bitter pill. 
 
 59 
 
I'd sooner think it came from chance 
 Or rather from our will. 
 
 But if we use God's power within, 
 To steer clear from the ditch; 
 We'll be all right, in life's great flight 
 Though fortune turns the switch. 
 
 I'M GOING TO SEE MOTHER. 
 
 Sometime I'm going to see mother. 
 
 It may be sooner or late; 
 But I know my mother awaits me 
 
 Just inside that beautiful gate. 
 
 Years have passed since here we parted. 
 They will be like nothing to me. 
 
 If when that bright haven we enter 
 Mother's dear face I shall see. 
 
 I know not the place of the meeting, 
 Or that blessed abode is to be. 
 
 But I know the place will be Heaven 
 Where mother is waiting for me. 
 
 Yes, I know somewhere she is waiting, 
 My heart does this message relate. 
 
 That some day I'm going to see mother 
 Just inside that beautiful gate. 
 
 I fancy in dreams I see father. 
 My mother's only true mate. 
 
Sweetly embracing each other 
 Just inside that beautiful gate. 
 
 And there with the throngs of the angels 
 There will be parting and sorrow no more. 
 
 Just await other loved ones to enter, 
 
 With mother and I on that shore. 
 
 (The above was suggested by a dream wherein 
 the title was seen written in pure white snow.) 
 
 BEAUTIFUL, BEAUTIFUL HEAVEN. 
 
 Beautiful, beautiful Heaven, 
 Nothing but peace here I see. 
 Beautiful, beautiful Heaven, 
 Just filled with tranquility. 
 
 Beautiful, beautiful Heaven, 
 Blessed in Christ's Kingdom to be. 
 Beautiful, beautiful Heaven, 
 Surrounded by eternity. 
 
 Beautiful, beautiful Heaven, 
 Each can the great glories share, 
 Beautiful, beautiful Heaven, 
 No longer burdens we bean 
 
 Beautiful, beautiful Heaven, 
 Mystic wand now in our hand, 
 Beautiful, beautiful Heaven, 
 State, where we all understand. 
 
 61 
 
Beautiful, beautiful Heaven, 
 Just filled with gladness and glee. 
 Beautiful, beautiful Heaven, 
 Climax of all ecstasy. 
 
 Beautiful, beautiful Heaven, 
 Freed from turmoil, sorrow and fear. 
 Beautiful, beautiful Heaven, 
 God and the Son with us here. 
 
 ^ 
 
 MEMORY'S CORNER. 
 
 I stood on memory's corner. 
 
 Just for a little while; 
 Trying to choose the very best 
 
 The moments to beguile. 
 
 But some way in the jumble 
 Of all things that moved along. 
 
 There was nothing so impressing 
 As childhood's happy song. 
 
 "Oh! happy day, that fixed my choice," 
 
 Stood bold among the rest. 
 It took me back to mother's knee 
 
 The place I loved the best. 
 
 "Oh! happy day, that fixed my choice 
 On thee, my Saviour and my God! 
 
 62 
 
Well may this glowing heart rejoice, 
 And tell it's raptures all abroad.'' 
 
 It brings me to the old church door, 
 
 And there within I see 
 The faces of the loved ones 
 
 That were so dear to me. 
 
 And called back the old homestead. 
 With all past pleasures gay, 
 
 It simply proved time can't erase 
 The theme of happy day. 
 
 Now I'm sure the very star 
 
 That's guided all the way, 
 Was mother's song she loved the best, 
 
 That grand old "Happy Day." 
 
 63 
 
LOWE 
 
 OSAWATOMIE