Life, 1924-01-10 · page 3 of 44
Life — January 10, 1924 — page 3: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains a narrative poem illustrated with ink drawings, not political satire. The poem depicts a dialogue between an old sailor and a personified cloud, rendered as whimsical character sketches. The sailor recounts his adventurous seafaring past—frozen Arctic expeditions, tropical lagoons, typhoons, and global voyages—contrasting his youthful wanderlust with his current settled life as a married man. The cloud, initially beckoning him back to adventure ("Sail on!"), ultimately accepts his domestication. The illustrations show ships, stormy seas, and the cloud depicted as a playful figure—emphasizing the fantastical, romantic tone rather than social commentary. This appears to be light, nostalgic fiction rather than political humor.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
78 JON = 439748 The Sailor and the Cloud By Austin Tarrent CLOUD goes curvin’ out over the sea, White, on the deep blue sky He cocks his weather eye down at me Admirin’, an’ arskin’ why— Why An’ not on the boundin’ With the little waves darnein t © you here « h, Old Top From here to the shore Father Nep An’ he sighs w'en you don't appear he ¢ the Now, wot'll he say, wen I te As I seec uu a-loiterin’ here Sail on, old Cloud!" s An’ don't come Fer I'm a respecta ried man An’ I don't foller the sea! a-pestering me! It's many a day, since you led me a With the w ful Away from me home, A-seekin’ adwen' The adwentures I had was, workin’ like mac Wich is highly gold w'ich I found, as I 1 hummingbird’s Id stuff in an ‘0 the yard wen it blowed rfiu blowed out, an’ the fish flew waves was blowed n’ wild an’ free! I've froze to the bone, in the Artik Zone An’ fried na tropic lagoon; I've steered by the log, in a Grand Banks fog An’ raced with a Jap typhoon w the world Ww; I've seed the sea, an’ I've An’ all wiich they have te An’ I've tooken a wife, ’ I'm settled fer life An’ my nails is beginnin’ to grow n the beach, Old Dear says | So I'll jest stop her An’ sail no more ship “A perambulator fits more wi Roll by, old Cloud! Roll by! (eh Wot cot Odaw? comicbooks.com