Life — May 16, 1901 — page 8: what you’re looking at

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

412 Welcome Home! A Custom House Tragedy. (See centre page cartoon.) SCENE FIRST ts laid on the deck of the tncoming transatlantic steamer * Penumbria,” with Sandy Hock in sight. The passengers, Mahly hilartoue, are ait chatting of their home-coming with expectant faces, Mr. Jonathan Smtth, a jolly American, now advances to the front and sings the song of HOME, SWEET HOME. A merry crowd are we, With hearts a homeward bounding Unto the land that’s free With liberty resounding. We've traveled fur and wide, No more we care to roam. The sweetest word, in time or tide, Is Home, Home, Home! The entire ¢0 sings mpany now steps forward and To Yankeeland we're traveling With rapt anticipation, Where there's no petty caviling Nor deadly molestation. Dear old Manhattan looms afar Above the deep sea-foam There's naught so sweet in love or war As Home, Home, Home! Mr. Jonathan Smith continues : Let's gather now and sing, As o'er the blue we're speeding, The merits of the thing That all of us are needing. We're tired of foreign lands— Of gallery and done— The sweetest sound, as time expands, Is Home, Home, Home! By the company : With laughter and with jollity We chant our own ovation Of Liberty, Equality! Wesing the Yankee Nation! Dear old New York, we love thee well! matter where we roam, ere is no word that has the spell OF Home, Home, Homet Young Mr, Wett Blankett, who has been across secerab tuner, now forward. He has on a suit of tights for the coming oc+ casion, and in his righthand he carrie a pilt bor tna shartstrap. U large tag suspended from thle article reads in plain letters: “This is the only baggage I hace” He looks aympathizingiy on alt, and then steps forward and sings: dips ~LIFE: Allow me to say, In my skeptical way, That the song which you sing, tho’ eu- phonious, And in each word and line Breathing sentiments fine Is, between you and me, quite erroncous. When they Keep you penned off At the wharf, and they s¢ And examine with insolence « Each bone While they make you undress, Then “ home" will not seem exegitical. When for hours you must wait, With a gorge that's irate, At the beck of se pull ejaculate : “Oh, it gives me a pang, This dear home that T sang, It's so fur, very’ far, from immaculate!” 2 Jew, ) He te politely ignored by the rest, who don't relish anything said against home, and who ecn- tinue to watk vp and down and cheer for Ualr country, whtle the steamer nears the city. SECOND istaid on the wharf of the Penumbria.” A crowd of prople is waiting to gret the incoming pas sengere, and dodging the freight handlers tn the best way possible, Suddenly there is a burst of music as a company of leading manufacturers marches in to the tune of * Johnny, Get Your Gun.” Everyboty bois down to them, cHores oF MANUFACTURERS. We've got the Government by the throat Ina manner truly desirable, And every official Whose work's superficial Is rendered quite rapidly firable! Our pockets we're lining through Uncle Sam, In ways that are quite reprehensible, For the pica We care no iota,” ne voter A fact (as you know) indefensible. $o each Custom House inspector, Get you ready for your wor "Tis your duty to a mar And each passenger that’s coming You must never, never shirk. Make him suffer all you can! The Custoin House officers now march wp and down, most of them talking with their hands, white the head inspector pulls out a mile or +0 of red tape and makes it into laseos Jor each man. All mark time and sing: soxo oF THE When CUSTOM. HOUSE: swinging, Is a-swinging, INSPECTORS. the noble steamer homeward is a- As the ocean tide so bravely she doth stem, She doth stem; While the passengers of bome and friends are singing, Friends are singing, THE RETURN OF THE ELOPERS. T'S ABSOLUTELY NO USE, SIR, TO ASK MY PORGIVENESS.” “WE DON'T CARE ANYTHING ABOUT THAT, SIR, ALL WE WANT IS 4 SQUARE MEAL” comicbooks.com