Captain Billy's Whiz Bang, July 1922 · page 39 of 67
Captain Billy's Whiz Bang #35 — page 39: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains **no political cartoons**—it's a collection of humorous poetry and literary pieces typical of this satirical magazine. The content includes: 1. **A tribute to "Boatswain, a dog"**—a sentimental memorial using elevated language, likely mocking overwrought eulogies. 2. **"Age and Youth"**—a Shakespeare excerpt contrasting youth's vigor with age's decline, framed as romantic poetry but undercut by its clichéd comparisons. 3. **"At Breezy Point"**—satire of flowery nature poetry. A poet hails spring's "gorgeous charms," but the joke is that spring literally "hailed" (produced hail/sleet) instead, making the grandiose language ridiculous. 4. **"Pot of Ink"**—self-aware mockery of pretentious verse, where the poet dramatically addresses an inkwell with hatred and love. The satire targets romantic and nature poetry's overwrought sentimentality—a common target in American humor magazines of this era. The humor relies on puncturing pompous literary conventions through mundane reality.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
38 Captain Billy's Whiz Bang Courage without Ferocity, And all the Virtues of Man without his Vices." This Praise, which would be unmeaning flattery If inscribed over human ashes, Is but a just tribute to the memory of Boatswain, a dog. * * * Age and Youth Crabbed Age and Youth Cannot live together: Youth is full of pleasance, Age is full of care; Youth like summer morn, Age like winter weather; Youth like summer brave, Age like winter bare. Youth is full of sport, Age's breath is short; Youth is nimble, Age is lame; Youth is hot and bold, Age is weak and cold; Youth is wild, and Age is tame. Age, I do abhor thee; Youth, I do adore thee; O, my Love, my Love is young! Age, I do defy thee: O, sweet shepherd, hie thee! For methinks thou stay'st too long. —William Shakespeare. * * * At Breezy Point Hail! Hail! Hail! I heard a mushy poet sing, "Thy charms unveil! Hail! My gorgeous Spring!" She did. Did fickle Spring; Her gorgeous charms unveiled, And Hailed and Hailed, Then like H—l she Hailed. * * * Oh! Mighty, Mystic Pool, To lure thy secrets we must forever think, And so I woo Thee, Hate and Curse Thee, Pot of ink,