ruck a gong, yer know,
And didn't have no foolish bird ter flap his wings and go:
"_Hoo_-hoo! _Hoo_-hoo! _Hoo_-hoo!"

Well, things git on from bad to wuss, until I'm free ter grant,
I'd smash it into kindlin', but a present, so, I can't!
And, though a member of the church, and deacon, I declare,
That thing jest sets me up on end and makes me want ter swear!
I try ter be religious and ter tread the narrer way,
But seems as if that critter knew when I knelt down ter pray,
And all my thoughts of heaven go a-tumblin' down ter,--well,
A different kind of climate--when that bird sets out ter yell:
"_Hoo_-hoo! _Hoo_-hoo! _Hoo_-hoo!"

I read once in a poetry book, that Ezry had ter home,
The awful fuss a feller made about a crow, that come
And pestered him about ter death and made him sick and sore,
By settin' on his mantel-piece and hollerin' "Nevermore!"
But, say, I'd ruther have the crow, with all his fuss and row,
His bellerin' had _some_ sense, b'gosh! 'T was _English_, anyhow;
And all the crows in Christendom that talked a Christian talk
Would seem like nightingales, compared ter that air furrin squawk:
"_Hoo_-hoo! _Hoo_-hoo! _Hoo_-hoo!"

* * * * *

THE POPULAR SONG

I never was naturally vicious;
My spirit was lamb-like and mild;
I never was bad or malicious;
I loved with the trust of a child.
But hate now my bosom is burning,
And all through my being I long
To get one solid thump on the head of the chump
Who wrote the new popular song.

[Illustration: "The washwoman sings it all wrong."]

The office-boy hums it,
The book-keeper drums it,
It's whistled by all on the street;
The hand-organ grinds it,
The music-box winds it,
It's sung by the "cop" on the beat.
The newsboy, he spouts it,
The bootblack, he shouts it,
The washwoman sings it all wrong;
And I laugh, and I weep,
And I wake, and I sleep,
To the tune of that popular song.

Its measures are haunting my dreaming;
I rise at the breakfast-bell's call
To hear the new chambermaid screaming
The chorus aloud through the hall.
The landlady's daughter's piano
Is helping the concert along,
And my molars I break on the tenderloin steak
As I chew to that popular song.

The orchestra plays it,
The German band brays it,
'T is sung on the platform and stage;
All over the city
They're chanting the ditty;
At sum