Captain Billy's Whiz Bang, March 1922 · page 45 of 68
Captain Billy's Whiz Bang #31 — page 45: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page features two poems in *Captain Billy's Whiz Bang*, a satirical magazine known for ribald humor. **"Smokehouse Poetry"** advertises an upcoming reprint of "Absolution" by Nesbit—a dramatic poem about a priest who becomes emotionally/physically involved with a female penitent during confession. The excerpts show the priest's internal struggle and aftermath, with religious language ("sin," "pardoned") masking an illicit encounter. The satire targets clerical hypocrisy—a priest violating his vows while hearing confession. **"Night After Night"** is a philosophical poem using card games as a metaphor for life's randomness and fate. The speaker accepts poor luck ("got no hand") with equanimity, concluding that unseen forces control outcomes beyond human effort. Both poems fit the magazine's blend of irreverent humor and literary content, with the first directly mocking religious authority through suggestive narrative.
📄 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 Smokehouse Poetry In the April issue Smoekhouse Poetry fans will be treated to an old classic, “Absolution,” by Nesbit. “But the Priest’s duty bade him seek her out And say, ‘My child, why dost thou sit apart? Hast thou some grief? Hast thou some secret doubt? Come and unfold to me thine inmost heart.’ * * * And as the dim east brightened, slowly ceased The wild devotion that had filled the priest— And with full sunlight he sprang up—a man! * * * “Oh, lips so quiet, eyes that will not see! Oh, clinging hands that not again will cling! This last poor sin may well be pardoned thee, Since for the right’s sake thou hast done this thing.” * * * * * * Night After Night Night after night the cards were fairly shuffled And fairly dealt, but still I got no hand. The morning came, but I with mind unruffled Did simply say, “I do not understand.” Life is a game of whist; from unseen sources The cards are shuffled and the hands are dealt. Vain are our efforts to control the forces Which though unseen are no less strongly felt.