“Little Things, but Ain’t They Whizzers?”
The following song was written for the benefit of any theatrical or musical entertainment that desires to use it in Houston. Any company rendering it outside the city is liable to a fine of $1,000,000, as it has been composed solely for the pleasure of Houston audiences, which it is sure to please.
The person singing the song, if a gent, will dress in loud check trousers, tan shoes, and high white hat, advancing to the footlights, smiling, and carrying a large cane. If sung by a lady, the costume is the same, with smaller checks, and parasol instead of cane.
The following lines are to be spoken:
“Ladies and Gentlemen: You must excuse my hoarseness tonight, as I was up late last night rocking the baby to sleep. (Laughter.) I love babies. (Great laughter.) When they get molasses on their fingers and use your shirt front for a piano, it makes a man think marriage is a success, now doesn’t it? (Howls of laughter from the family circle.) Last night I came home late from the lodge (applause); and after I took off my shoes and slipped into the room and commenced rocking the cradle, my wife woke up and said, ‘What are you doing, Charlie?’ ‘I’m getting the baby quiet,’ said I. ‘Come to bed, you fool,’ says she, ‘the baby has been in bed here with me for two hours.’ (Prolonged yells of laughter.) Babies are little things, but are very important institutions. That reminds me of a song.” (Looks at orchestra, which strikes up at once.)
(Sings):
As we wander down life’s pathway
Plucking roses as we go,
Often do we prick our finger
With the little thorns that grow,
Little drops make up the ocean,
Little chips fill up the pot;
Little drinks make great big jaglets,
Little wives can make home hot.Little things—but ain’t they whizzers!
Little bees have biggest stings;
Little girls are sometimes Tartars—
Look out for the little things.
(Bass horn—“Ta-ra-rum.”)
(Spoken)—“Yes, ladies and gentlemen, it is not always the biggest things that are the most valuable. I remember a few nights ago I was in a poker game. It was not in this city, of course, for since Charlie Helm was elected marshal there is no gambling in Hooston (can also be pronounced Howston). (Vociferous cheering in gallery.) I will tell you about it:”
(Sings):
Once while I was playing poker,
I hid four kings in my shoe;
And I said, when someone raised me,
“I won’t do a thing to you."
Then I shoved in all my money,
And I reached out for the pot—
But a fellow shouted, “Drop it!
I’ve four aces, what you got?”Little things—but ain’t they whizzers!
Little one spots downed the kings,
And my hand it was not in it
When he showed the little things.
(Deafening applause from the audience; two men fall out of private boxes overcome with laughter, and every man in the audience claps his hands for fear it will be thought he does not understand the game. The singer will please smile indulgently, and when the noise has subsided, continue)—
I engaged board once in Hooston (or Howston),
At a house not far from here;
They were fashionable people,
And the grub was scarce and dear.
I turned into bed quite early,
But I jumped out with a roar,
And I scratched myself two hours
Then slept upon the floor.Little things—but ain’t they whizzers!
Never felt such bites and stings!
When you go to bed in Howston,
Look out for the little things.
(Plaster falls from the opera-house ceiling, and the audience stand up in their chairs and wave their handkerchiefs. The singer will here do a few steps of a clog dance, and exit r. Whistles, yells, and calls and screams from dress circle. Gallery totters. Enter singer, smiling and bowing, wearing another coat and hat—Sings:)
I have got a girl in Hooston,
And she rides upon a bike;
You should see her when she spins to
Harrisburg upon the pike.
She wears bloomers, though she don’t weigh
More than eighty pounds or so;
Now, I wonder how she does it,
When I see her move ’em so.Little things—but ain’t they whizzers!
Pair of bloomers hung on strings;
Wonder they don’t break to pieces,
Such hard work for little things.
(The audience goes wild with delight, gentlemen throw their hats at the ceiling, ladies shriek with delight, and the gallery resolves itself into a Republican convention, while the police pound with their clubs on the wall and cry “Encore!”)
Curtain.
(Houston Daily Post, Sunday morning, April 26, 1896.)