Judge, 1924-04-05 · page 7 of 36
Judge — April 5, 1924 — page 7: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# "Never the Twain Shall Meet" - Satire on Mah-Jong Craze This page satirizes the American obsession with mah-jong, a Chinese tile game that became wildly popular in the 1920s among wealthy Americans. The verses, by Glenn Cook Morrow, humorously contrast the narrator's expertise at Western gambling games (poker, bridge, dominoes) with his complete bafflement at mah-jong. The satire relies on period stereotypes: the poem jokes that playing mah-jong causes the player's eyes to "slant" and threatens to transform him into a Chinese person (growing a "queue" or traditional braid). The crude caricatures and ethnic humor reflect early 20th-century attitudes. The point is ironic—a sophisticated American gambler is humbled by this foreign game, rendered helpless despite his cosmopolitan experience. The title "Never the Twain Shall Meet" references Kipling's famous line about East and West, suggesting cultural incompatibility, even as Americans eagerly adopted Eastern pastimes.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
NEVER THE TWAIN SHALL MEE VERSES BY GLENN COOK MORROW ‘ve SAT around the midnight board Of which the poets sing And drawn three luscious aces To a kricker—and a Iring. Ive filled "em in the middle And I've laid *em down “all blue”- And Pve raked the shelels to me Ona six, five, four, three, twol 2 y ‘VE TOssED Ine ‘loping dominoes From Nome to Vera Cruz, Imploring “Lil Phoebe” to Bring “baby's brand new shoes,” While, with eight-er from De-cah-tuh,” Tve dropped hundreds in the drink As the lucky birds rolled * ens,” Guzzling *“Dago” Mike F. LL oft luxurious drawing-rooms Have felt my noiseless tread. Full oft D've thrown a tiny trump Upon an ace that’s led; Heard “Double” and “Re-double” And “Partner—it’s your deal” And ponied up the ducats With ne'er a smothered squeal. Q H, the mysteri Are to mean The flopping dice, the poker paw Require no second look. In fact, the only game of chance That catches me dead wrong Is this antiquated, yellow-skinned Concoction called “Mah Jongg.” —you “Pung” for the East Wind And “Chow” the five of dots Till every slippery bamboo tile Resembles fever spots. You “Chow” and “Pung” and some- times “Kong” And then you holler “Woo!” Whereat the sleepy clock-caged bird Reiterates “Cuck-oo!” Tus highfalutin Chinese game Has put me on the blink. My eyes slant north by eastward Like those of any Chink. Ere long I'll feast on rice and tea; A queue I'll have to grow Unless I stop manhandling this Mongolian domino. comicbooks.com