Life, 1883-02-01 · page 10 of 16
Life — February 1, 1883 — page 10: what you’re looking at
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# "Lochinvar Ex-Colorado" Satire This poem parodies the romantic ballad "Lochinvar" by Walter Scott. A rough Colorado cow-puncher named Budge receives a telegram and rushes east to win Angelica Bute, a wealthy New York heiress. She's expected to marry the refined "Fitz James," but abandons that arranged society wedding to elope with Budge instead—leaving by train in traveling clothes. The satire mocks both genteel Eastern society (her dowries from Paris, Tiffany jewels, Grace Church wedding) and romantic convention. Budge's working-class lack of refinement (no luggage, flannel shirt, dirt-tolerant) contrasts with upper-class expectations, yet he succeeds through earnest devotion. The humor targets snobbish society's disapproval ("greatest of shames") while celebrating the heroine's choice of genuine love over social status.
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Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
LOCHINVAR EX-COLORADO. H, the cow-puncher Budge has come in from the West ; In all Colorado his ranch is the best ; And, barring a-toothbrush, he baggage had none, For he came in some haste, and he came not for fun ; Nor vigils nor gold to his quest does he grudge— On an errand of love comes the cow-puncher Budge. A telegram reached him ; he called for a horse ; He rode ninety miles as a matter of course ; The last twenty-seven he galloped, and then Just caught the Atlantic Express at Cheyeane. He staid not to eat nor to drink, for he knew He could pick up a meal on the C, B, and Q. He got to Chicago the second day out, Bat right through Chicago he kept on his route, Nor staid to buy linen, not even a shirt ; He liked flannel best and he didn’t mind dirt. With trowsers tucked into his boots, said he “ Fudge— Small odds—if I get there,” said bold Robert Budge. * . * * « From Worth, the Parisian of awful repute, Had come divers gowns to Angelica Bute, And parcels from Tiffany daily were stowed Away in strong rooms of her father’s abode ; But she languished, nor heeded she hint, cough or nudge; She was bound to Fitz James, but she cottoned to Budge. But hark! 'Tis the door-bell! A symptom of joy Lights her eye—"' Ah ! at last !"" 'tis a messenger boy ; The maid brings a message ; she takes it, half dead With mingled excitement, hope, eagerness—dread. “\ Mayor's house, on Thursday, at nine; let me judge What next ; only meet me there faithfully, Budge.” * * * * * On Thursday at nine, to the house of the Mayor, Two persons came singly, but left it a pair. A man, and a bride in a travelling dress, Went Westward at ten onthe Lightning Express. A wedding at Grace Church which should have occurred At twelve, was, for reasons not given, deferred. The dowagers called it the greatest of shames ; The men said, ‘*It’s rough on that fellow Fitz James ;” The damsels declared it was awfully nice, And vowed they could do it and never think twice. “It’s chore to get housemaids ; you may have to drudge At the start; but—I love you,” said cow-puncher Budge. Tue gentleman who was unsuccessful in rounding a corner, has finally succeeded in turning a conversation to the admiration of all his friends. comicbooks.com