The conductor's eyes gave a savage gleam;
These words rolled out in a limpid stream:
"There's the A. B. J. D. V. R. Z.
Connects with the Flip-Flap-Biff-Bang-B,
You can change on the Leg-off-Sueville-Grand,
And go through on the Pan-cake-ace-Full-Hand.
That road you named is blocked by snow,
The Kankakee and the Kokomo.
"The Pennsylvania, Pittsburg Through,
Connects with the Oshkosh Kalamazoo,
With a smoking car all the afternoon;
Just the thing for a honeymoon;
And the Central-Scalp-Tooth-Bungville-switch
Goes through a vine-land country rich.
Of the road you named I nothing know,
The Kankakee and the Kokomo."
The bride said: "Honey, 'tis best, by far,
Like the dollar, we return to pa
(That's a pun I heard while on a train
On the U. R. N. G. Jersey main)."
The conductor smiled; his eye-teeth showed;
He had spoiled the trade of a rival road.
He knew in his heart there was no snow
On the Kankakee or the Kokomo.
And the bride and groom returned to pa,
Who heard it all and then said: "Pshaw!
If you found you couldn't go that way,
Why didn't you go on the Cross-eyed Bay?"
The bridegroom gave a howl of pain;
The railroad names had turned his brain.
He raves, insane, forevermore;
In a madhouse, chained unto the floor,
He gibbers: "Tootsie, shall we go
By the Kankakee or the Kokomo?"
WAKIN' THE YOUNG 'UNS
(The old man from the foot of the stairs—5 a. m.)
BY JOHN C. BOSS
Bee-ull! Bee-ull! O Bee-ull! my gracious,
Air you still sleepin'?
Th' hour-hand's creepin'
Nearder five.
(Wal, durned ef this 'ere ain't vexatious!)
Don't ye hyar them cattle callin'?
An' th' ole red steer a-bawlin'?
Come, look alive!
Git up! Git up!
Mar'ann! Mar'ann! (Jist hyar her snorin'!),
Mar'ann! it's behoovin'
Thet you be a-moovin'!
Brisk, I say!
Hyar the kitchen stove a-roarin'?
The kittle's a-spilin'
Ter git hisse'f bilin'.
It's comin' day.
Git up! Git up!
Jule! O Jule! Now whut is ailin'?
You want ter rest?
Wal' I'll be blest!
S'pose them cows
'Ll give down milk 'ithout you pailin'?
You mus' be goin crazy;
Er' more like, gittin' lazy.
Come, now, rouse.
Git up! Git up!
Jake, you lazy varmint! Jake! Hey Jake!
Whut you layin' theer fur?
You know the stock's ter keer fur;
So, hop out!
(Thet boy is wusser'n a rock ter wake!)
Don't stop to shiver,
But jist unkiver,
An' pop out!
Git up! Git up!