Judge, 1900-06-16 · page 3 of 16
Judge — June 16, 1900 — page 3: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
The top cartoon, titled "Shakespeare in Posumville," satirizes a theatrical production by the "Posumville dramatic club." It depicts actors in a squalid setting, with signs advertising various goods and services. The dialogue parodies Shakespeare ("We Uns and You Uns"), mocking what appears to be a poorly-produced or amateur dramatic performance, likely staged by working-class or rural performers. The bottom cartoon shows a woman in a cart pulled by mules, captioned "Mrs. Rooks" and "War News." The brief dialogue suggests she's bringing news about "the Boers' lager" during the Boer War, with a joke about ambition involving "a Dutchman's beer." Both cartoons use dialect and crude stereotypes typical of early 1900s American satirical humor, mocking theatrical pretension and wartime developments.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Ss = Dai § Keone aw *N) ANY £5 CF u FER DE ACToRS AN MANAGERS OF DE SHow, To SHAKE SPERE'S Rg |Conriwvous PERFOR 2) oar Br eionr ar SHAKESPEARE IN POSSUMVILLE. * Macbeth,” by the Possumville dramatic club—'* Lay on, Macduff !" WE UNS AND YOU UNS. We uns an’ you uns ’s fightin’ yet WE UNS was Johnnies an’ you, uns was Yanks, You fit us fair an’ you took us all— Endurin’ the war ‘at we can't forgit ; An’ there's many a leak in our old tear-tanks, A-recollectin’ how we all fit. ‘An’ you uns can smell 0° your posy wreath, ‘We've done shook hands bat the fight 's inside ; An’ my teeth 's all gone or you'd hear ‘em grit, I gnashed ‘em so when the lost cause died. An’ you all keep naggin’ at we all because ‘That is, our armies an’ flags an‘ drums; But I never give up individual, ‘An’ I cuss in a whisper an’ grit my gums When some one says my confed'r’t beard But we uns must sprinkle our graves with rue ‘An’ smother a sob as we catch our breath, For we uns was ** rebels” accordin’ to you. e nigger 's a-makin’ all we all bad, By never a-votin’ as we all does, An’ fusses till we all gits all-fired mad, ‘An’ grayback suit ‘Il go out o” style ; An’ I'm mad clean through, for I'm most afeard I'm gittin’ so old my hate ‘'l spile. But I'm savin’ what little the’s left to save, An’ warmin’ it up when it gits a chill, By scatterin’ posies acrost the grave Of them pieces o' me down to Perryville. An’ Polly tears open the old sore fresh In my empty sleeve when she says to me, * Tell me, gran‘pa, what's an old * secesh'?”” ‘An’, gran'pa, what's come o' your other knee?” But somehow I'm gittin’ to like you Yanks— ‘The way you acted since we all fit ; An’ seein’ your tottery, thin old ranks, My hate won't keep, not a little bit ; An’ I'm all cut up, for I'm here to say, Since you all hain’t never took cause to brag, Let's you all an’ we all, the blue an’* the gray, ‘Thank God for the flap of a union flag. RDWIN S. HOPKINS, WAR NEWS. Mrs. RooraL—"' The paper sez the British hey captured the last of the Boers’ lager.” Mr, Roorat (emphaticaly)—" Thet settles the war ; take away a Dutchman's beer an’ his ambition 's gone.” comicbooks.com