Image provided by: University of Nebraska-Lincoln Libraries, Lincoln, NE
About Will Maupin's weekly. (Lincoln, Neb.) 1911-1912 | View Entire Issue (Aug. 11, 1911)
of foam ; then" showed to all the world that he bought from Rears-Sawbuck, C. O. D. Moral: I'm for the man who boosts for fair With real deeds and not hot air. MUSINGS ALONG THE WAYSIDE PATHS NEBRASKA. They tell me of countries eyisian That lie on the hithermost shore; Of golden paved street, of music so sweet, And fairies and houris galore. They tell to me stories of plenty, Of gardens and fields of delight That lie "over there" in some country so - ' fair, Where never is sorrow or blight. But ever I answer and tell them : "Get hence! Yon are wast in y your breath. For all that is best, by rule or by test, Nebraska can skin 'em to death!" I've heard some tall stories of countries ' With skies .ever cloudless and blue ; Where perfumes adorn all the winds of the morn And maidens bewitching and true. They tell me of harps and of angels, Of joys never ending and sweet; Of long summer hours midst fields full of flowers, And life with the joy time replete. But ever I answer and tell them, A smile of great joy on my face "This wonderful state of Nebraska so great Can beat 'em both icays from the ace!" They tell me of Caanan that Moses Once viewed from the peak of a hill, And said was a land at once fertile and grand, Where man could partake to his fill. They speak of the Land of Great Promise, Jerusalem golden and bright; Of bright jaspar walls and a glory that calls And pledges the hearers delight. But ever I ansiccr and tell them : "In all of good-this life affords Compared with the rest old Nebraska's the best, And got 'em all backed off the boards!'' I listen in patience to stories Of lands that are fairer than day. I list while they sing till the far echoes ring, ' But never I heed what they say, I let them sing peans of praises To this or that land of their choice : I don't care a rap for their rant 'or their yap, Rut let them get rid of their voice. And then, when they're tired, I chortle : "O stop running off at the month. ., ' In all good and great Nebraska's the state That's got all the rest going south!' THE OFFICE BOY SAYS: De best dat some guys kin expect is de woist uv it, 'cause dat's all dey is entitled to. ' De fact dat a lot o' kids go wrong kin be tracked back to de great gran'-parents. Some uv de coin I spend in me own town gits back t' me. I got enough t' worry about t'day wid out worryin' about w'ot happened yista day. When a man gits t' takin' hisself too durned serious it's time t' give him de laugh. God ain't wastin' no time listenin' t' us prayin' f'r w'ot we want instead o' praym" f'r w'ot we need. A lot o' dese "chips off'n,de ol' block" merely proves w'ot a woodenhead dad is. A FEW FETCHING FABLES. How oft these days upon the street the politicians we must meet ; the hungry, of ficeseeking gents who have a yearning most intense to save the nation or the state from some dark, evil-smelling fate; who swiftly grabs us by the hand and speils away to beat the band. He loves us like a house afire and if he don't then he's a liar He swears his only motive is to serve the people well then, siz-z-z ! He's off adown the street to make another vote with swift handshake. He thinks the world will go to pot if he's not Johnnie-on-the-Spot. He swears he does not need the job, but swears that schemes to smoothly rob the people dear can only be prevented by such men as he. He sajs twill be a sacrifice, but he is willing once or twice. He talks until we're tired and sore; then takes a breath and talks some more. Moral: These politicians are so thick They make us weary, sore and sick. A man once lived near hereabout who . claimed to be a good old scout. He never saw a thing begin but what at once he butted in and claimed to be the Johnny Wise, the while his talk was full of "Is ;" and swore by heaven's vaulted dome that all should stand for things at home. Did some one start a scheme to boost, this guy would try to rule the roost. Did others plan to make things hump, he took the credit in a lump. No matter what the scheme or plan this guy appeared the only man. In short he was the great big "It ;" all other men were simply "nit." At last, one day, the tired crowd togeth er got and quickly vowed they'd make this guy of much pretense look something less than thirty cents. They let him talk of boosting home until his mouth, was full A man in one Nebraska town was given much to running down the business of the thriving place, and always pulling a long face; declaring with a doleful wail that banks would burst and crops would fail. He always had his hammer out to knock the good old booster scout. A good word for his town or state this geezer would not asservate. He always had a tale of woe; he said that things to .hell would go ; he knocked from morn till candlelight, and kept on knocking through the night. - One day the boosters in their wrath arose and took the broad warpath. They seized the knocker, gagged his mouth, and set his foot to moving south. They made him skip and fairly dance by sundry kicks upon pants. Now if he wants to knock the town he can not do it sitting down. - Moral: The ax is what the knoeker needs Applied where Mary wears her beads. I know a man God bless his heart who never fails to do his part in making folks feel fit and fine ; who , never finds the time to whine. He always wears a smiling face ; he's always ready in his place to boost his town and boost his state, and help when time ,', to pay , the freight.. He says his town's the best on earth; his state the best in all that's worth the while of any man to know as through this vale he has to go. He pays the local printer man, buys home made goods whene'er he can; and wouldn't trade Ne braska fair for all the kingdoms "over there." If rain is short he says : "By gum ; just hang on, boys; it's bound. to come." Do times grow hard? He sheds his vest and hustles out his level best. Do knockers knock; he winks his eye, hands them a kick, and passes by. He finds us full of hard luck dope, and leaves us brimming full of hope. Moral: What pleasure tis to meet and know The man who grabs and won't let go. PRECIOUS. "Butterfingers !" shrieked the bleach ers. Whereupon we rejoiced at our posses sion of the player. Is not butter scarce and worth thirty-five cents a pound? WE INSIST. "Take the cards that are dealt you and play the game." This a motto that some friend suspend ed from a nail driven into our office wall. All right. But we insist that we have a chance to cut after the cards are shuf fled cm top of the t&We,