Judge — December 7, 1895 — page 9: what you’re looking at

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

THE PUDDIN'—BY MAHTHY WASHIN’TON, WHO MADE IT. * When the pie was opened the birds began to sing. IS am de gorjeous puddin’ dat beats de puddin’s all, It fills de yawnin’ jackets 0° de big uns an’ de small. Take dat fat an’ shinin’ puddin’ when it’s bilin’ t'rough an’ t'rough, An’ de flickerin’ flame atop shows its yellow, red an’ blue, An’ it sozzles t'rough de stumick an’ goes wanderin’ to de soul, Wid de sprig 0’ Chris'mus holly an’ de punch widin de bowl. Dar’s a heap o° fun an’ laughter in de sugar an’ de spice, An’ de raisins dey jes’ bu'sted dey felt so bery nice. De proof o' dese yar puddin’s doesn't b'long to any string, For de smellin’ o’ de stuffin’ shows it jes’ to be de t'ing. Dar's a heap o’ de affeckshuns in dat puddin’ an’ glow, An’ de gran'thers sang its glory in de courtin’s long ago. De sperrets 0 dat puddin’ is good-feelin’s all aroun’, An’ it's mixed wid jinerosity, wid love it does aboun’; An’ its wit is stirred wid wisdom by a bright an’ shiney spoon Dat was clipped an’ brought for Chris'mus from de silber 0’ de moon; An’ it's big wid fun an’ senterment an’ tenderness an’ song, For de Chris'mus dinner ‘specially, but for de whole y'ar long. Hi-yup, chilluns! draw up an’ eat yer fill, An’ Santy Claus ‘ll pay for it an’ fix de doctor-bill. 1a onscony, comicbooks.com