Puck — May 1877 — page 10: what you’re looking at

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

PUCK. MUSIC HATH POWER. Base violinist was Herr Schmaus In Gilmore's famous Gardu-en; Whence he-departed every night Unto his home in Hoboken. i 2. Did this ferocious tramp explain He took no mustard upon his. Poor Schmaus, once more exploring the Posterior pockets of his coat, By a felicitous accident Struck on his instrument a note. rb But on his way one summer eve, He met a low and lively cur; Herr Schmaus said: “Hytrophopia!” The dog confined himself to Brrrr! 5. Schmaus saw the dire necessity Of changing then the bill of fare: And offer pup a sandwich spread With fresh Bologna sassenjare. 8. The Teuton mind is naught if not Deductive. Ere you could say much, man Had triumphed o’er th’ inferior beast, Who slunk fast from the ‘Flying Dutchman.” 6. Purp took one bite, and let it drop; Herr Schmaus attempted strategy The canine palate for to tickle; And tendered to the hostile purp His own scant meal of Pumpernickel. Looking disgusted, as it fell, he Showed, by expressive pantomine, His taste was more for calves’-foot jelly. Oh, Wagner, had he known thy power, He ne’er had got in such a pickle. He might have saved his sassenjare; His trousers, and his Pumpernickel, DOGGEREL. ah KNow that this style of poem Bi Is apt to be quite debonair, But the theme that inspires these verses Is a truly most Sirius affair. "Tis said that ‘each dog has his day,” Which means some distinction or sway, But the dogs at Gilmore's have taken the day In a wholly absurd and dogmatical way. There are Pointers, and Setters, and Spaniels, ‘There are Deerhounds, and Beagles, and Collies, And wise-looking, queer little Pugs, One of fashion’s last odd, freakish follies. ‘There are huge dogs, and dogs that are tiny, There are slow dogs, and dogs that are fast, Dogs various, sons and papas, And stubborn dog-mas caged at last. ‘ ¥ Bb ee ‘There are Mastiffs, Staghounds, and Bull-dogs, ‘St. Bernard’s and all of that clan, And Poodles, Watch-dogs and Grey hounds, ‘And dear little pets, black-and-tan. But there is not a mad-dog among them, Nor one that has ever had fits; ‘They have banished that ‘raving beauty,” ‘The poor hydrophobical Spitz. ‘The dogs keep shcir wits still about them, But the case is growing quite sad; That the canines are all compos-mentis, ‘And only the owners dog-mad. "Tis a show most taking and novel, ‘And the world and his wife take a peep, At these blue-blooded, costly beauties, Not one being really—« dog-cheap.” Mex R. Corguitr. | camped there. Boston, Wuen the fire in Canajoharie was over and the stricken people of that town had begun to extract comfort from the calamity, the editor of the Radif rose in his stirrups and, cheerfully inquired, ‘Where is your Chicago now?”— Oregon Democrat. Crncinnatt is again going for her banco men. She bas a habit of stirring them up every few weeks in order to make them realize that good- ness and liberty travel hand-in-hand, and that old sledge is-the best game alter all.— Detroit Free Press. Susan B. ANTHONY registered at a Western hotel, and some malicious male creature started the report that the ‘hostile Sioux” had en- eel comicbooks: Om)