SISTER SIMMONS
Almost every other evening jest as reg'lar as the clock
When we're settin' down ter supper, wife and I, there comes a knock
An' a high-pitched voice, remarking', "Don't get up; it's me, yer know";
An' our mercury drops from "summer" down ter "twenty-five below,"
An' our cup of bliss turns sudden inter wormwood mixed with gall,
Fer we know it's Sister Simmons come ter make her "reg'lar call."
In she comes an' takes the rocker. Thinks she'll slip her bunnit off,
But she'll keep her shawl on, coz she's 'fraid of addin' ter her cough.
No, she won't set down ter supper. Tea? well, yes, a half er cup.
Her dyspepsy's been so lately, seems as if she should give up;
An', 'tween rheumatiz an' as'ma, she's jest worn ter skin an' bone.
It's a good thing that she told us,—by her looks we'd never known.
Next, she starts in on the neighbors; tells us all their private cares,
While we have the fun er knowin' how she talks of our affairs;
Says, with sobs, that Christmas comin' makes her feel so bad, for, oh!
Her Isaiah, the dear departed, allers did enjoy it so.
Her Isaiah, poor henpecked critter, 's been dead seven years er more,
An' looked happier in his coffin than he ever did afore.
So she sits, her tongue a-waggin' in the same old mournful tones,
Spoilin' all our quiet evenin's with her troubles an' her groans,
Till, by Jude, I'm almost longin' fer those mansions of the blest,
"Where the wicked cease from troublin' an' the weary are at rest!"
But if Sister Simmons' station is before the Throne er Grace,
I'll just ask 'em to excuse me, an' I'll try the other place.
"THE FIFT' WARD J'INT DEBATE"
Now Councilman O'Hoolihan do'n't b'lave in annixation,
He says thim Phillypynos air the r-r-ruin av the nation.
He says this counthry's job is jist a-mindin' av her biz,
And imparyilism's thrayson, so ut is, so ut is.
But big Moike Macnamara, him that runs the gin saloon,
He wants the nomina-a-tion, so he sings a different chune;
He's a-howlin' fer ixpansion, so he puts ut on the shlate
Thot he challenged Dan O'Hoolihan ter have a j'int debate.
Ho, ho! Begorra! Oi wisht that ye 'd been there!
Ho, ho! Begorra! 'Twas lovely, Oi declare;
The langwudge, sure 't was iligant, the rhitoric was great,
Whin Dan and Mack, they had ut back,
At our big j'int debate.
'T was in the War-r-d Athletic Club we had ut fixed ter hear 'em,
And all the sates was crowded, fer the gang was there ter cheer 'em;
A foine debatin' platfor-r-m had been built inside the ring,
And iverybuddy said 't was jist the thing, jist the thing.
O'Hoolihan, he shtarted off be sayin', ut was safe
Ter say that aich ixpansionist was jist a murth'rin thafe;
And, whin I saw big Mack turn rid, and shtart ter lave his sate,
Oi knew we 'd have a gor-r-geous toime at our big j'int debate.
Thin Moike he tuk his tur-r-n ter shpake, "Av Oi wance laid me hand,"
Says he, "upon an 'Anti,' faith! Oi'd make his nose ixpand;
Oi 'd face the schnakin' blackguar-r-d, and Oi'd baste him where he shtood.
Oi'd annix him to a graveyard, so Oi would, so Oi would!"
Thin up jumped Dan O'Hoolihan a-roar-r-in' out "Yez loie!"
And flung his b'aver hat at Mack, and plunked him in the eye;
And Moike he niver shtopped ter talk, but grappled wid him straight,
And the ar-r-gymint got loively thin, at our big j'int debate.
Oi niver in me loife have seen sich char-r-min' illycution,
The gistures av thim wid their fists was grand in ixecution;
We tried to be impar-r-tial, so no favoroite we made,
But jist sicked them on tergither, yis indade, yis indade.
And nayther wan was half convinced whin Sar-r-gint Leary came,
Wid near a dozen other cops, and stopped the purty game;
But niver did Oi see dhress-suits in sich a mortial state
As thim the or-r-ators had on at our big j'int debate.
Ho, ho! Begorra! Oi wisht that ye'd been there!
Ho, ho! Begorra! The foight was on the square;
Ter see the wagon goin' off, wid thim two on the sate!—
Oi 'd loike ter shtroike, 'twixt Dan and Moilce,
Another j'int debate.