Captain Billy's Whiz Bang, December 1921 · page 43 of 68
Captain Billy's Whiz Bang #28 — page 43: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains two humorous poems from *Captain Billy's Whiz Bang*, a satirical magazine known for ribald humor. The first poem celebrates rural American farm life and moonshine whiskey with folksy charm—referencing fiddle music, country dancing, and illicit alcohol ("moonshine"). It's nostalgic Americana with a wink about illegal drinking during Prohibition. The second poem, "Ten Years on the Islands," satirizes the opposite: tropical colonial life that allegedly corrupts and destroys character. The speaker warns that extended time in island territories (likely referring to American colonial possessions like Hawaii or the Philippines) leads to moral decay, alcoholism, and loss of decency. Together, the poems contrast idealized American rural virtue with the corrupting influence of tropical colonialism—a common anxiety of the era about how overseas imperial expansion affected American character and values.
📄 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 41 A firing up the drum To run a drink that's guaranteed To put sorrow on the bum. It glistens like the dew drops, At the dawn of early morn, And you can smell the boys' feet That plowed the yaller corn. It fills your heart with gratitude, And keeps you feeling fine, Like everybody was owin' you And you didn't need a dime. 'Tis the land where satisfaction, Peace, love and feuds reside, And the farms they sit up edgeways; You can farm on either side. Where they dance from dark till daylight, Calling swing, and balance all; With the fiddler full o' pine top, Playing Turkey in The Straw. When you read these lines, yours truly Will be there for evermore, Wading through the moonshine, Singing Sailor on The Shore. And my address, should you want me, Will be Flatrock, Arkansaw; Care o' Wildcat Hiram Johnson, In the Land of Gee and Haw. * * * Ten Years on the Islands Ten years on the Islands, And you're mad; Not a spark of decency— Oh! it's sad; Can't recall one sober day, That you've had; You've let the tropics get you, And you're bad. Ten years on the Islands, And you fell, Hardly conscious of surrender, To the spell;