Captain Billy's Whiz Bang, December 1924 · page 40 of 71
Captain Billy's Whiz Bang #67 — page 40: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This is a nostalgic poem with no political content—it's sentimental material from *Whiz Bang*, a humor magazine that mixed satire with popular culture. The main poem, attributed to "Captain Billy," is a classic 19th-century song about aging. The speaker revisits childhood haunts with "Maggie," lamenting that the landscape has changed (the green grove is gone, replaced by a city), yet insists his affection for her remains unchanged by time. The chorus emphasizes lost youth and mortality. The brief coda below the asterisks is comedic commentary on aging, using contemporary 1920s imagery: the speaker's "wind is gone" and he "wobbles on / Just like a punctured tire"—a modern joke about becoming defective, like worn automobile equipment. The page appeals to "old-timers" with nostalgia while the tire gag updates the sentiment for contemporary readers.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
[Farmyard Fun and Filosophy] When You and I Were Young, Maggie (Somehow, the days always seem brighter when I run across one of the old songs that carry something besides mere words. It's dollars to a bushel of Maggie's doughnuts that this old favorite printed below will give the old-timers as much pleasure as it did me. The poem is a little musty with age, but is one that will never die.—CAPTAIN BILLY.) I WANDERED today to the hill, Maggie, To watch the scene below The creek and the creaking old mill, Maggie, As we used to long ago. The green grove is gone from the hill, Maggie, Where first the daisies sprung; The creaking old mill is still, Maggie, Since you and I were young. CHORUS And now we are aged and gray, Maggie, And the trials of life nearly done; Let us sing of the days that are gone, Maggie, When you and I were young. A city so silent and lone, Maggie, Where the young and the gay and the best, In polished white mansions of stone, Maggie, Have each found a place of rest, Is built where the birds used to play, Maggie, And join in the songs that were sung: For we sang as gay as they, Maggie, When you and I were young. They say I am feeble with age, Maggie, My steps are less sprightly than then, My face is a well written page, Maggie, But time alone was the pen. They say we are aged and gray, Maggie, As spray by the white breakers flung; But to me you're as fair as you were, Maggie, When you and I were young. * * * My wind, alas, is gone; I've lost my youthful fire! And now I wobble on, Just like a punctured tire. [35]