Judge, 1924-04-12 · page 9 of 36
Judge — April 12, 1924 — page 9: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Judge Magazine Page Analysis This page contains three satirical pieces typical of early 20th-century American humor: **"Words and Music"** (top): A poem mocking unsuccessful romance. A man writes heartfelt lyrics for "Madeline fair" but cannot compose music. When he finally asks Madeline herself for help, she simply "gave me the air"—a dismissive rejection. The satire targets romantic pretension and the gap between artistic ambition and actual talent. **Porter cartoon** (middle): Shows a shabby porter pestering a well-dressed man about carrying his bag, arguing for inflated wages ("ten cents—or you an' the bag both fer fifteen!"). This satirizes aggressive street hustlers or panhandlers. **"Still-y Night"** (bottom): A humorous account of insomnia, where the narrator attributes supernatural disturbances (ghostly breath, mysterious sounds) to post-Prohibition alcohol consumption rather than genuine paranormal activity. The final note asking "Where the h—— do you keep your money?" suggests a burglar, implying his drunken fears were partly justified—satirizing both prohibition-era drinking and paranoia.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Worps anp Music I SAT DOWN to write me a sweet little song To sing to my Madeline fair, I wrote of her eyes and her lily-white hands Of her cherry red lips and her hair. And I thrilled for I knew this love lyric of mine Would surely male Madeline care. But I had no music to go with my song, So I sat down to write then and there 1 melody sweet as befitted the words, I'd indited to Madeline fair. Though L toiled all that night L am forced to confess, That I never got anywhere. “Oh, give me a tune for this lyric of mine. I begged everyone fn despair, But no one would give me a melody sweet, So I called on my Madeline fair, And I gave her the words of my nice little song, And Madeline gave me the air. Put Rosa. sat A constituent not long ago. sent the following information to his Con- gressman: yere az i hav awl i kan yews wat i wanta no iz dew yew deel in frewt ¢! trease if sew i wood lik a phew ov yewer { politecal plums. i bleeve id lik em. “Yu needent send me eny seads this i i} ‘ ty - Importunate Porter (who has been turned down)—Carry yer bag fer ten Yewers trewly. cents—or you an’ the bag both fer fifteen! “STILL-Y” NIGHT Counting the black sheep as they hurdled the fence, I tried to fall asleep, but in vain, that blamed Scotch in- sisted upon keeping me awake. Sud- denly my window rattled and a hungry hound howled without (food). Then the floor groaned and a gray mist drifted by my bed—or was it my coat on the rack? Gosh dang that “liker”! I felt a hot breath on my neck—or was it—the wind? I flung my blanket over me and cold beads of sweat gathered on my hot forehead. cursed that post prohibition. stuff between my chattering teeth. A muffled thud! I leaped up in horror—not a thing in sight! I fell back frozen by my own fancies. That morning I found a note lying next to my bed. It read: “Where the h—— do you keep your comicbooks.com