Judge — May 12, 1923 — page 10: what you’re looking at

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

“I chewed fresh marcelled hair. OFF WITH THE DANCE by Charles A. Yeatman, Cornell ‘23 Illustration by B. D. Adams, Cornell '23 (Hello, Uncle Walt!) [™ WEARY of this dancing stuff, it pains me through and through. I sicken at a powder puff or a maiden’s juicy coo. I'm tired of oiling up my line ‘and oiling up my hair. I'm sick of eyes that look at mine with that foolish baby stare. I'm fed right up upon the dance, with all its twist and shake. I’m through with all the slide and prance; I'm done with playing snake. The other eve I took one in; it was a weird affair. And quite in time to all the din I chewed fresh marcelled hair, I with quite the best of folk: societ And I listened to the plaintive croak of miss “Third and Thirty Street.” But, high or low, the talk that came was all a prototype, whether from the social dame or lowly Woolworth wipe. The Bostonese, the nasal twang, the flip- pant flapper’s fling; sung in English or in slang, ’twas just the same old thing. “[ like you really well, you know,” said maid of high degree. “You're quite the boy, from hat to toe,” quoth the flapper flippantly. And then the blond that takes the cash, she of toothsome grin, let out her bit of balderdash to fill the evening -in. She chewed her gum with winning grace as all such damsels do. She let words drop from out her face: “You shake a wicked shoe.” I heard that stuff the whole night long, from this dame or from that; till, growing Weary of the song, I donned my coat and it at. I weary of that soft soap tune, I’m just fed up a bit. I hate that “Do cut in real soon!” of the female hypocrite. I've heard the jazz band’s callous cries until I've grown quite ill. I’ve heard so many female lies that they’ve lost the old time thrill. I’ve skidded on the waxen floor with many a fair faced dame. That stuff appeals to me no more, it seems both dumb and tame. And so I'll hock my dancing shoes, dis- card the rag and bone, heed not the wicked, haunting blues of some shrill saxophone. I'll pack my grip and leave that rot far away behind. I'll travel into foreign lands and not have jazz break up my mind. I'll sail upon ‘the ocean blue to Tierra Del Fuego. Just what else can a fellow do who's got the damned lumbago? “Where do they get that ‘Dai! stuff?” clucked the hen to the roos Sidney K. Eastwood, Carnegie Tech. “The passing show.” 8 SERS Ballade of a College Wit by Herbert S. Talbot, Dartmouth °25 HE poet twangs his gleaming lyre, And gaily sings his roundelay. Or sobs about the fierce desire That slowly eats his heart away. Oh, he can sit down any day, And write a soulful piece or two. I sit and wonder what to say About some girls I never kne I'd like to sing of flame and fire And many a gory, grand affray; Perhaps of Dido's funer When bold 2neas said, “ Or with a magic pen portray Some famous tale of vivid hue. Instead a jingle I essay About some girls I never knew. Worn out, I labor and perspire Through hours better spent in play— Long past the time I should retire, Until the dawn is growing gray. Alas, to my profound dismay, I can’t conceive a thing to do Except to chirp a carol gay About some girls I never knew. L'envoi O Muse, my fervent prayer obey, I've been a faithful bard and true. Inspire now another lay About some girls I never knew! 2 Chawtes—Here’s a sure cure for lots 0’ things: Colds, coughs, pneumonia, rheu- matism ’n’ everything. Gives instant re- lief, it say: Alfwed—What is it, suppose? “Dunno, unless it’s carbolic acid.” George S. Hulse, Boston U. 2 Observant Stude—Prof. Bore doesn’t se- riously object to your looking at your watch occasionally, but he does get cantankerous if you put it earward to find out whether it is still functioning. J. G. Kelley, Ursinus College '25. Dr comicbooks.com