Judge — January 23, 1926 — page 23: what you’re looking at

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

Lament T'm under a delightful curse J must express myself in verse— In verse that pays. If I desire to make her mine I must express my love in rhyme— In ron-da-lays. Her eyes are brown, her hair cow- red; I fear her figure’s too well fed— That will not sell. And if I write of hearts so true They needs must rhyme with eyes of blue— And I'll get hell. If I make rhymes with hair cow-red They will not sell. We can’t be wed. The same is true If I write verse with hair of brown; My red-head goil will throw me down. So what to do? —Northwestern Purple Parrot Ste First Stewed—I say, old chap, don’t you know that wolves come in packs? Second Stewed—That’s so do Camels. —Wabash Caveman nothing, Says Ikey of Hacklebarney: Our . cow quit giving milk so we sold him, —Texas Ranger. “Yes, Jeremiah, Alice said that last wight she dreamed she was dancing with you.” “You thrill me all to pieces, Heze- kiah.” “—and then she woke up to find her kid brother pounding her feet with a flat iron.” —Onto Srate Sun Diau “What Ivind of a husband would you advise me to get?” “You get a single man and let the husbands alone.” —C. C. N. Y. Mercury Errie—Pa, the Transcontinental Air Mail Service. Pa—Nopey, nopey, Sugar Plum. No daughter of mine will ever be a fly-by-night. —Ya.e ReEcorp Surprise As he gazed into her glowing eyes, a throbbing thrill suffused his inner being. After all, she was his, and he would cling to her forever. He wrapped his big bronzed hand around her tiny white one, and planted a gentle kiss upon her up- turned lips. And now, dear readers, comes the surprise of the evening, for it was not his pet cow, or a saxophone, but his own dear sweetheart, and he loved her dearly. —Oregon Orange Owl PIS “So you claim your girl don’t neck?” “That’s what I said. My girl is a lady. She’s the paramour of decency.” “And what did she do when you tried to neck her?” “She hit me over the head with a bottle of Scotch and told me to get the hell out of her house.” —Gettysburg Cannon Bawl FHF He—Something seems to be wrong with this engine, it— She—Don’t talk foolish, wait until we get off this main road. —Johns Hopkins Black and Blue Jay comicbooks.com