Captain Billy's Whiz Bang, June 1921 · page 44 of 67
Captain Billy's Whiz Bang #21 — page 44: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page from *Captain Billy's Whiz Bang* contains three poems reflecting post-Prohibition American life and social commentary. "Jeu D'Amour" (by Enid R. Clay) is a romantic poem about love's transience—a relationship that began hopefully but ended in heartbreak. "Christmas at the Workhouse" (by Dan Morlarty) is satirical humor depicting convicts mocking their warden. When he wishes them "Merry Christmas," they respond with "Bells"—likely a crude pun or double entendre. The warden's angry threat to deny them Christmas pudding prompts the oldest convict's vulgar retort to "shove it in the sewer," satirizing the indignity of prison conditions and convict defiance. "Underneath the Barroom Floor" references Prohibition (1920-1933). The poem's opening suggests people still gather for drinking, but "the barrooms now are bare"—legal bars have closed. The implication is that drinking continues illegally, in speakeasies or hidden locations "underneath" legitimate establishments, mocking the failed policy's actual effect.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Captain Billy's Whiz Bang 43 Jeu D'Amour By Enid R. Clay March winds were blowing when we met— (And so the game was started) You blew a breath of love to me That left me broken-hearted. June roses scented all the air— (The game seemed so worth winning), Their glory mingled with your kiss, And never thought it sinning. And still for some the March winds blow, And roses perish never; For all my play—and some must lose— Forever and forever. *** Christmas at the Workhouse It was Christmas at the workhouse, And the convicts gathered there. They were sitting at the table, Partaking of their fare, When the warden quietly entered, And he shouted through the cells, “Merry Christmas, good old convicts,” And the convicts answered “Bells.” Now this made the warden angry, And he swore by all the Gods, “You shall have no Christmas pudding You’re a dang big bunch of slobs.” Then spoke the oldest convict, With a voice that was not pure, “Just take that Christmas pudding, And shove it in the sewer.” —By Dan Moriarty. *** Underneath the Barroom Floor ’Twas a balmy summer evening And a goodly crowd was there But it wasn’t in the barroom For the barrooms now are bare.