Judge — April 14, 1923 — page 9: what you’re looking at

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

wn by Pavt D. Roninson “Hold that mirror up higher, James, so I can see the ball!” Ballades of a Dub by AL N.C. Fowler Sue's Golfing Now in Linen Pants Mie links attract me more just now Than formerly they used to do And Tin confidence allow The cause of this is simply Sue, Tho’ not the Sue T once did view When she wore skirts from Paris, France, But one all habited anew— Sue's golfing now in linen pants. She has a gallery? I'll vow She does—a long and Who over hills and valle For just one peek or maybe two In wonder if that pair be true Whose conformation so enchants On seeing what we never knew— Sue's golfing now in linen pants. queue s plow When nature’s pleased thus to endow \ girl as she has fashioned few It’s not a cinch to set forth how The girl’s contours appeal to you, But Pll say this: her curves imbue The mind with feelings which enhance My zeal her twosome to pursue Sue's golfing now in linen pants. LE nvoi No, Susan, I shall not go through, But on your trail shall my stance, Engrossed in what I’m coming to— Sue's golfing now in linen pants. sa “Do you get many reorders in your bus ” * replied the old bootlegger. “If any of my customers come back it’s only to haunt me.” ey A comedy is a funny story; a tragedy is a funny ‘story told twice to the same man, tyles can't ¢ don’t see why bobbed hair grows too Scooty Blear by C.W. Myers HH’ JUDGE wha becomes discouraged ower his gawf game may find it tae his advantage tae permit th’ “pro” tae tak” his case oonder advisement. * * * Th’ gawfer wha gets sair an’ throws his cloob aifter makin’ a puir shot, it is a safe bet, is th’ husban’ whase wife wears th’ knickers at hame. * 2 * Th’ reason why a flapper rarely be- gude gawfer is that there is nae haud her head comes muckle above her ears tz doun, * * & 10 days, when a merchant says his stock is gettin’ low, it is a question whether he is referrin’ tae his merchandise or tae a certain container in th’ basement. + * «* ever cease? A frien’ hat juist as soon Will wonders tauld me th’ ither as he haed saved oop $500 he wad buy a flivver an’ a coople sacks o’ little red apples, then he wad be satisfied wi’ life. * * * Squirrel-T hear ye're gaun tae ta oop gal. Mole—Na, indeed; there are too mony traps aroun’. oy “Ah, well.” sighed the geometry. in- structor, “I had hoped you cared for me. Such was my hypothesis.” “I like you, professor,” said the girl, “but I can't’ marry you. T'l be an hypothesister to you.” was Baker—You didn’t seem sympathetic when I told you my wife lost our motor car. Barker—Losing a car is nothing. My wife is always losing trains, Aviator (forced to land)—Fore! 7 Spring’s Questionings by P. Ramsbottom To cor or not to golfs all pop the question: Whether ‘tis gentler in the heat to suffer The roly-poly of enormous piecing: Or to take clubs against a welt of troubles, And by walloping seant them? To golf— to swear, No more; and, by a swear, to say we cool The hot nec id the ten thousand aches A fan gives rise to—tis a consternation Devout To golf—to swear— To swear! ance to lie—aye, there's the troub; Forin that lieof one whatsleuth may come, When we have scored to add the outcast dubs, Must give us pause. ming bird That sucks our fame of its young bloom: For who would bear the try-it-agains of pros, There's the hum- Drawn by M. BrKezov, Coming home after that “rest cure” in the country. The caddies’ sighs, the other man’s dis- courtesy, The ladies” tee, the gang's incredulous laugh, Adding-machine smarties, and the knocks Impatient champions of the unbelievers feel, When he himself might any seventy make With a pared pencil? Who'd — these hundreds bear, To rank and sweat among the yellow cards, But that the dread of some one keeping tab The effervescent. one that springs from earth Or drops from heaven to pipe, “Hard luck, old man,” Makes us rather count them, every one, Than let the jealous say—we all know what? Thus conscience does make counters of us all, And thus the jaunty blush of seventy- nine Is_ sickli 1 o'er with the pale dread of And enterprisers of one less than par, With this regard their pencils grimly sheathe, And lose the fame of champions— you, now! The famed Nineteenth. orisons: Are all thy sins remembered. * * Soft Nymph, in my The place that launched ten thousand lips—XIX. comicbooks.com