Judge, 1898-12-24 · page 9 of 30
Judge — December 24, 1898 — page 9: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This is a humorous poem illustrated with vignettes celebrating "music" in everyday American life, though most examples are actually *noise* or unpleasant sounds. The satire mocks sentimental romanticism about music by reframing mundane or annoying sounds as "musical": - **Breakfast horn's alarm** and **alarm clocks** disrupt sleep - **Ice-cream man's bell** attracts children - **Organ-grinder's music** evokes tears (of frustration, not joy) - **Cornet-player blares despite reproof** (noise complaint) - **Baby's teething cries** described as "music" - **Pugilist's "chin-music"** (boxing slang for punches) - **Drum-banging and fife** for patriotic fervor - **Harp music is pleasant only if the player isn't your wife** (domestic complaint humor) The illustrations depict these scenarios with comic chaos. The overall joke: life's irritating, cacophonous sounds are romanticized as "music," satirizing both sentimental Victorian poetry and the noisy reality of urban/domestic American life.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
“ox, THERE is music in the air, there is music everywhere, Adam sounded first the tones of joy and woe. An inheritance rare has been handed down with care, Music tones: do—re—mi—fa—sol—la—si—do, There is music to the hungry in the breakfast- horn's alarm, The alarm-clock wakes. but soothes to deeper sleep. What music to the child is the ice-cream man’s ter-rar-rum. And the organ-grinder’s musi¢ makes us weep. There is music in the wind as it soughs amid the palms, The cornet-player blares despite reproof. There is music in the heir, who awakes at night with qualms ; It's a gum game—for the kidlet 's got a tooth. Chin-music, too, abounds in delightful throaty sounds From pugilist in training while he delves ; How he'll put to sleep opponents in a very few short rounds, Yea, the scrappers’ melodies are of them- selves, There’s music, too, to some, in the banging of the drum. Patriotic thrills run rampant from a fife. What pleasure from the harp with its twanging rum-ty-tum— When the harper happens not to be your wife. comicbooks.com