Puck — November 6, 1878 — page 13: what you’re looking at

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

PUCK. AN OLD SON In ancient days their lived a Turk— A horrid beast within the East — Who did the prophet’s holy work, As Baba of Jerusalem. He had a daughter, sweet and smirk— Complexion fair and dark-blue hair— With naught about her like a Turk, Except the name, Ka-foozle-um. Ka-foozle-um! Ka-foozle-um! zle-um! 0-0 Ka-foozle-um! the daughter of the Baba! 0-0! Ka-foo- A youth resided near to she; His name was Sam, a perfect lamb; He was of ancient pedigree, And came from old Methusalem. He drove a trade, and prospered well, In skins of cats and ancient hats; And ringing at the Baba’s bell He saw and loved Ka-foozle-um. If Sam had been a Musselman, He might have sold the Baba old, And with a verse of Alcoran Have managed to bamboozle him; But, oh, dear, no! he tried to scheme, And passed one night the area gate, And stole up to the ‘Turk’s harcem, To carry off Ka-foozle-um, The Baba was about to smoke, His slaves rushed in with horrid din, “ Masshallah, dogs your home have broke, Come down, my lord, and toozle’em!” ‘The Baba wreathed his face with smiles, Came down the stair and witnessed there A gentleman in three old tiles A kissing of Ka-foozle-um, ‘The pious Baba said no more ‘Than twenty prayers, but went up-stairs And took a bow-string from a drawer, And came back to Ka-foozle-um. ‘The maiden and the youth he took, And choked them both, and, little loth, ‘Together pitched them in the brook Of Kedron, near Jerusalem. And still the ancient legend goes, When day is gone from Lebanon, And when the eastern moonlight throws A shadow on Jerusalem, Between the wailing of the cats A_sound there falls from ruined walls, A’ ghost is seen with three old hats A kissing of Ka-foozle-um! 0-0! Ka-foozle-um! zle-um! O-0! Ka-foozle-um, the daughter of the Baba! Ka-foozle-um! Ka-foo- “My darling,” says Mr. Sadrake, who has been ostensibly duck-shooting at San Matco all the day and night previous, “did the office- boy bring you those ducks I shot, as I told him?” “No, sir, he did not,” replied Mrs. S., in an icy and appalling manner; “ but the butcher's boy has been here to say that, as he cannot fill your order for wi/d ducks to-day, he sends you a half-dozen tame ones instead.” Tableau.—San Fran. News-Letter, * THe paragrapher that was hanged said to the crowd around the gallows, “ This life is but a hemp-tie show.”—- Graphic. “Tue Sufferings of a Tarred Man,” going the rounds, cannot compare with the tortures of the otard man.— Cin, Sat. Night. “Tax one of the people,” says Mr. Tilden. You are Sammy, you are.’ One of the worst kind of people.— Burlington Haw! Hurry up that electric light. The man who drops a penny in a street-car wants to buy four- teen yards of it.— Detroit Free Press. Tue report of Tilden being engaged to a St. Louis belle is pronounced false. Sammy doesn't cipher matrimony.— Cin. Saturday Night. Beavers never speak of each other as “straight -haired.” ‘They say of a square beaver, he is fur-straight. — Cin, Saturday Night, Yousc clergymen will please leave the size of their feet with the sexton at the church in season for Christmas slippers.—New Orleans Picayune. Pror. ‘Tice has sued an almanac publisher for stealing quite a quantity of his weather which he had saved up for next year.—Dan- ‘bury News. A New York man stabbed a woman the other day with a dagger, mistaking her for his wife. He apologized when he discovered his mistake. —Oil City Call, ‘THere has been a great cry made that a chalk mark will keep ants out of food. We have noticed the fellows never get in our milk.— Svracuse Sunday Times. For goodness sake Washington boasts of having 103 churches; but then it has the seat of Government, and sinners gain by that.— New Orleans Picayune. ‘Tne gentlemen who have been decorated as Chevaliers at the great Parisian Palace of In- dvstry, must not be rated as Chevaliers a’ Indus- trie. —Phila. Evg. Bulletin. ‘THe Graphic remarks that women are fun- niest when they say nothing. And then spoils the intended compliment by saying that women are seldom funny.—Aochester Express. James Gorpox Bexxerr has been beaten at polo.—Zxchange. He can sympathize with General Howard, who is in the habit of being beaten by po! Lo.— Wheeling Sunday Leader, Aw old campaigner says speaking two hours in the open air isa great strain ona man, It is also a yreat strain on facts, figures and the patience of listening victims.—New Orleans Picayune. -tH GREEN has received a gold medal from France, Itt is labeled “Paris, Green, Poisson- ier.” But why they spell a Paris green poi- soner with two s's deponent Seth not.—Piila. ‘i Bulletin, “Rememner Lot's wife,” said St. Luke, And from the mysterious yonder comes the answer from Brigham Young's ghost: ‘ Yes, I remem- ber Lot’s wives. In round numbers about eighteen.” —Loston Fost. Epitu O'Gorman, the enraged nun, has broken loose again in New Jersey. She has a regularly ordained husband and a son in New York, but these facts do not appear on the pos- ters.— Burlington Hawkeye. Wirt her enthusiastic, impulsive liberality, Queen Victoria has contributed five cents for the yellow fever sufferers. Why doesn’t Vic. try to curb her extravagant habits and save up something for a rainy day ?—San Fran, News- Letter. 13 A SOLILOQUY. I am General Benjamin Franklin Butler, Sometimes called Slippery Ben, for short, Doomed for a certain term (fee) ‘To appear in Court and sass most everybody, And to stay there till I win or lose, And all the spondulux which my client has made Is transferred to me, by cash, check, or note of hand. But for the present I am confined to trotting up and down the State, Retailing any kind of a story that will bring me votes. I am the reform candidate for Governor, ‘The horny-handed son of toil, the rag-baby’s nurse, ‘The poor man’s friend, the widow’s helper, The guardian of soldiers’ orphans, the hero of Fort Fisher, And a life-long friend to General Butler. I blackguard Democrats, tell ’em they were traitors And destroyed the Union; I abuse Republicans, Go for the bloated bondholders like a thousand of bricks, Pitch into salaried bummers (though I am salary- grabber inyself), And in fact am “agin” everybody that’s “agin” me. But that I am forbid (for I’m after Hayes’s seat) To tell the secrets of my former life, I could a tale unfold whose lightest word Would raise the very Old Nick from Berkshire to the sea— Aye, from the Atlantic to the Pacific, From the frigid North to the torrid South, But I con't propose to tell. Benjamin F, Butler is not That kind of a hair-pin. — Boston Post, ‘Tue latest popular song is “Why does sister lace so tight, when mama says she mustn't?” —Boston Post. The next two lines are ‘Be- cause her fellow thinks it right, and contradict she dusn’t."—Shila. Bulletin, ‘Tue signs which say “Umbrellas recovered” and “Shirts retailed” mean nothing of the sort. An umbrella once loaned is never re- covered, and a shirt once shorn must go by de- fault.— New Orleans Picayune. AuTUMN poetry and opinions of eminent persons concerning yellow fever, its probable cause and certain curesshould be handed in before snow comes if intended for publication. —New Orleans Picayune. Victoria Woopuutt. is said to be engaged to a Cincinnati man who can play on a harmo- nican with his toes. She may yet settle down and be able to take a State Fair premium on darning socks.—Detroit Free Press. Ir puzzles a man beyond all expression to bend over a trade dollar and gaze into its dis- sembling face, and wonder and yonder and wonder where in thunder that missing ten cents got out and where it has gone. — Hawkeye. “ Oven the Harvard Eight go to England?” asks the N. Y. Graphic, We'd cight to see them go there and get beaten like sixty. However, they might be more fourteen-eight than we think—figuratively speaking.— Norr. Herald. “ANTI-HIC-FAT, eh?” said the tired stranger looking at the advertisement on the bill board, as he clung to a friendly lamppost. ‘‘Anti-fat, eh? "Taint that ails me. Anti-lean is—hic— what I want.” And with one more vigorous effort he pushed. the clinging lamppost away from him, walked backward across the street, and fell over a dray and half way up the side of a house.— Hawke comicbooks.com