Life — April 18, 1912 — page 32: what you’re looking at

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

ao Cal Le cel cee The Wreck of the Prudent Prue (4 New England Family Ballad) HE Prue she rode off Codfish Shoal In quite consid’ble gale, And Three New England Skippers sot A-lookin’ firm but pa “We're overladen, sure 's yer born,” The stoutish one says he, “T kind 0’ guess that one of us Must jump into the sea.” ‘Then up the Second Skipper spoke, A sharp-faced Pur-i-tan, “We be a-leakin’ fore and aft About as fast 's we can. We can’t draw lots for who must go, For gamblin’ is a sin— How shall we settle who gits out And likewise who stays in?” The Third, a Horace Greeley type, Remarked, “ It seems to me We ought to choose the man to die By kin and familee. For him whose folks are least account Can easiest be spared.” “ Agreed!” the Yankee skippers cried As anxiously they glared. “ My great-great-grandad, Praisegod Smith, Came with the Mayflower crew,” Explained the First. (‘* Quite natteral,” The others cried, “ Ourn too!) “Dan Webster, Edward Everett, Miles Standish, Paul Revere, Are my relations, more or less: The others said, ‘ Same here!” The storm now raged. "T'was plain their boat Would founder in the gale, Yet squarely sot those Yankee men And quite forgot to bail. One boasted Cotton Mather's stock; With Emerson one led; The Third claimed blood relationship With Mary Baker Ed. “ Friends,” said the Second, as the sea Began to rake the deck, “ We got to settle this darn quick Or we'll all be drowned, by heck! Now maybe we can pick out who Of us ain’t fit to live By tellin’ our Fust Ancestor Who in New England thriv.” “My ancestor,” said Skipper One, “ A man of great renown, First brought the witchcraft doctrine to The folks of Salem town.” “ Mine was the fust to burn a witch,” The Second One returned ; But the Third One swole his chest and said, “ Mine was the fust witch burned!” Two grim New England Skippers sat And gazed upon the Third. “Neighbor,” they cried, “if that’s the truth— And no one doubts your word— It sort o’ puts yer fam'ly in A different class from us; But durn if we tell if you Are better ’n we or wuss!” “Teall depends,” said Skipper Three. “Tr does,” the others cried; But ere they could e-luc-i-date, Upriz the stormy tide. So sharp it smote that fragile boat That she was wrecked to scads, And the Skippers Three went down (or up) To join their Pilgrim Dads. Wallace Irwin. comicbooks.com