Life, 1910-04-14 · page 15 of 44
Life — April 14, 1910 — page 15: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains satirical verse about farm life and animals, typical of Life magazine's humorous social commentary. **"To the Cow"** mocks the beef trust monopoly—a major political issue of the early 1900s. The poem ironically addresses a cow contentedly eating, asking whether she realizes she'll become ninety-cent steaks and how many families depend on her meat. The joke critiques the trust's control over meat prices while feigning sympathy for the oblivious cow. **"The Hired Man"** satirizes rural youth attracted to modern entertainment. A farmhand exhausted from courting his neighbor's daughter squanders his wages on a phonograph (record player), tempting his girlfriend away from "farming's pretty slow" existence. It mocks both rural life's tedium and consumer culture's appeal. The remaining sonnets mock animals' fates: a bulldog warned against heavenly misconduct, and a turkey facing Thanksgiving slaughter. The cartoon caption jokes about planting canned vegetables rather than seeds—mocking urban ignorance of farming. **The photograph** shows an unidentified victim discovering a lost letter, illustrating the era's melodramatic "letter" plot device.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
LIFE: 675 To THE Cow HOU happy cow! The long, bright summer through Hast thou on clover fed and calmly gazed O’er witching landscape; now cold winter's due And yet thou art as placid. Man has raised Good food for thee; within his ample store Sweet fodder, corn and hay do thee awai These doth he give, and, if thou needst it, more. Fortunate beast! Thou hast been blessed of fate When thou dost chew they cud dost ponder, say, How many steaks at ninety cents thou'lt make? Canst sec some mother call her babes from play And cach of them a fraction of thee take? Be brave of heart, may it be many a year Before the beef trust gets three, Bonnie, dear: THE WIRED MAN ND now the hireling to the milking goes And rubs from out his drowsy eyes the sleep That lingers there, for he was out with Rose, A neighbor's daughter, till the night grew deep. His tie of red he’s folded in the drawer And heel to toe his boots beneath the bed He's shoved; eke lies his best suit on the floor In wrinkled state. Full heavy was his head THINK OF IT! I JUST PLANTED ONE CAN OF PEAS AND ONE When he got home last night. The morning air TOMATOES."* Arouses him; he softly whistles while He milks; he's laid his precious wage away To buy a phonograph. Gee! won't she smile When she hears all the tunes the thing can play! She said last night that farmin's pretty slow, Sonnets of the Farm And this will be like going to a show. Cassidy I TO A BULLDOG WEET dog, art dead or dost thou know my love Where thou dost frolic as thou didst of old In sportive mood? Or in the realms above Do earthly cravings still thy being hold? If so, call honor quickly to thy aid Nor seek to stay thy hunger with a fowl Plumped for celestial beings; nor to raid Celestial coops where only seraphs prowl. Be prudent; thou hast gained the goal Of canines blessed; of food enough and more Dispensed by angel hands. Long not for gore Lest thou shouldst peril thy immortal soul At sound of wings dash not with speed too fleet ; Beware, for angels were not made to eat TO THE TURKEY RAVE in thy plumage struttest thou about, Tempting the fate not long to be deferred. A dish full toothsome thou'lt make, no doubt, Shorn of those feathers, thou delicious bird! Across thy roasted breast the father’s voice Will ask with patience great: “ What shall you eat? "’ And every child will straightway ‘gin rejoice, And answer him in shrilly tones: “ White meat! "* The father carves; there comes a sudden lull In sprightly conversation; nerves are tense And laughter ceases, for the knife is dull. Now all are served. The talk doth recommence. Gone is thy beauty, fowl, thy haughty mien, The Victim: vrar me! now rorTUNATE THAT YoU FOUND Yet nightengales taste not so sweet, I ween THAT LETTER. MY WIPE GAVE IT TO ME YESTERDAY TO Po: comicbooks.com