Judge — September 12, 1891 — page 7: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE BIRTHDAY PARTY. (A nonsense poem.) THE grcengizzard pipes in the peanuckle tree And loud shrieks the gurzigazoon; The eel-king is spoons on the turtle-tops three And kisses his love to the moon; ‘The rattlethings dance to the flipperty flute Hobgoblets are playing below, And the figures are called by the frog-demons cute, As they sit on the wall in a row. The livery lizard commences to sing, ‘The sea-serpent waggles his tail, The kitnipatickets join hands in a ring And they ride the big bug on a rail; The gurglings are laughing way down in the grass ‘At Waggletail, imp of the sea, And the gibbering gullet is trying to pass To make love to the wiggledywee. A Then the gurzigazoon gives a flip to his ear And tosses a kiss to the eel, The bracketbug throws the lean lizard a leer 4 And Kicks up his horified hee And all of ¢ others in unison =, TN, +E Including the mackeraloon, FOLLOWING ADVICE. And they join hands and flippers once more in a ring Mxs. Doonny —'1s it afraid av sunbur-rn yez are?” And dance round the gurzigazoon ! Mr. Cunnirr—"' It's not. Th’ docther tould me t’ wear a shade on me eye xara stastenson. — afther the welt Oi got at Hennessy's bar-rn-parthy.” : WHEN MISS HIGHSEE, HAD CEASED. Mrs. Bloobumper —"\ think the refrain was the best part of the song.” Bloobumper —Yes; but 1 began to fear she never would.” Mrs, Bloobumper —" Never would what?” Bloobumper — Refrain. A SEASIDE PROBLEM. TELL me, sweet maiden of the sunny coast, What is thy color in the winter time? Art thou a rival of the lily’s boast, Which poets love to sing in lofty rhyme? Or is this dusky hue that seemeth thine Thine own for alway—tell me, saline sprite— Tell me the truth, to know which I do pine, Art thou a darkey maid, or art thou white? camLYLR saerrH, A SAFE-DEPOSIT VAULT. Mr. Brratiiike—* What'll we spen’ d’ kitty fer dis ebenin’, gonnlemen?" Mr. Kuezar (extracting an ace) —"* If a rest ob d’ club doan’ mek no "bjections, T fink we'll gub it to yo’, so’s yo! kin go ‘n git yo" hair cut ‘fore a’ nex’ game.” TWO OF A KIND. THE PINNACLE of politeness has twice been reached within history. ‘The first instance was the case of the dying man who begged the king to excuse him for expiring in his presence, and the second and recent one is that of the little girl who, falling down and striking her_ head against a piece of fare niture with a loud noise, rose stumbling to her feet, and as soon as she could speak has- tened to apdlogize by saying, “'Scuse me.” THE DIFFICULTY. HOWEVER much we feel of A DISCONNECTED TRIALOGUE. woe First oFricer—"'T reckon we'd better slow down a bit, sir. From saying things we I'm afraid th’ main shaft's heating, by the smell, sir. oe os, Mr. Weeny (smoking a Pike county cigar) —" This is what 1 f ‘ i call solid comfort!" We find it harder still to know CAPTAIN (Fnvestigating)—"'I think we'd better go ahead full ‘The things to leave unsaid. speed" ‘ comicbooks.com; }