  After recess the musical began Of music, readings, dialogs and songs, Making a long diversified program. Miss Kister read each number for the throng’s Delight, who harked attentive, laughed and cheered, So they ofttimes with progress interfered. A dozen tiny tots their “pieces” spoke; Five dialogs were played with rafts of fun; Two damsels readings gave that nearly broke The backs of all, the laughter spared no one. Deer Creek and Pleasant Ridge schools blithely sang Four songs; they were cheered back till building rang. An overgrown lad, quite a bit dismayed, “Sockery and the Speckled Hen” declaimed. They encored him so loud he waxed afraid, And ran away as if he were ashamed. Altho to him such repertoire was new, But few adults as well as he could do. A blue eyed lass from Prairie Gem—she played On the spinnet and sang a pretty song; While on a banjo a Blue Valley maid Wrought music sweet to guide her lay along. Two blackened Deer Creek swains, for old and young, “Oh Don’t You Hear Dem Bells” like minstrels sung. Two violinists played selections fleet— Sweet hornpipes, Money Musk and Devil’s Dream. This music went alike to souls and feet Of all, until a frontier frolic did seem To be in progress on a puncheon floor. They lavished them with a double encore. There were two singers more on hand that night Who won the hearts and the esteem of all; And this tale would not be complete nor right If names and parts we did not here recall. ’Tho cruel time for many years has shed The snows of age upon each noble head. One Charley Bartlow was then young and gay, Kind hearted, cheerful, nice to old and young; His voice and heart were tuned up night and day; And to this crowd most willingly was sung. Many the quaint and jolly songs he knew; He loved to sing; folks loved to hear him too. “Susanna” first he sang for them that night; The way they listened told that it was sweet; He sang with all his soul and all his might, And they rewarded him for his rare treat; They cheered him back; and he responded then With one, his favorite lay—this old time gem:— “WHEN I WAS SINGLE”I. When a young chap I was jolly and gay; Not a lark was as merry as I; I whistled and sang both night and day; And the hours in pleasure swung by. No parties or dances for miles around But what I attended with glee; And wherever I frolicked the girls me found And chatted and flirted with me. Chorus. But I was still single then! O that I were single again! For when I was single With the world I could mingle: O that I were single again! II. Of no cares I knew and the days passed fair, And the nights like a laugh and a song; Toil left me no pain and cash scarce, ne’er. As I moved in the young gay throng. I never had trouble to find a miss To accompany me to the ball; My greatest concern always lay in this; That I could not wait on them all. Chorus: But I was, etc. III. But one time a lass at a ball I met Who gave me an ache in my heart. I took her to church and made her my pet, And out on life’s journey did start. We have been married now for years one score; I must work from morning till night; Six babes come to meet me at our door, And our living puts me to fright. Chorus. O that I were single again! O how I should whistle then! For when I was single The money did gingle. O that I were single again! IV. But now my pockets are empty and bare; And the girls never smile at me; My poor heart is overburdened with care; And the world yields a pitiless fee. So boys meditate on my sad plight; Don’t tie up your gay hearts too soon, Do treat the girls with respect and delight; But just let them giggle and spoon. Chorus: O that I were, etc. This sure delighted them. How they did cheer! The sentiment was light; the tune was gay. Such airy ditties people like to hear, And with such happy veins are borne away. ’Twas ever so; the human heart, ’tho staid, Bends willingly to levity thus made. The other singer was James Carbott, who A way had all his own; and when he sang, His hearers to him like a magnet drew; Their fancy tickled and their laughter rang, Until they were enraptured thru and thru; The more he sang the more this feeling grew. He was the opera star in this young crowd, Well seasoned as a wielder of the birch; By neither class nor audience was cowed: He had the gift of song a hundred worth. He sentimental songs could ably sing; But at comics was an operatic king. That night his old time energy was there; He threw his heart and soul into the song. When e’er his name was mentioned anywhere, A gust of high hopes overtook the throng, Because he had been heard ofttimes before, And he had always pleased them—even more. His hearers always reaped a fond delight; Such thrills as e’er a noble singer brings; He had the power to set their souls aright; And on the heights of ecstacy take wings— Those gifts of voice and heart that others beam With floods of mirth while yet itself serene. The program of the evening neared its close, When some admirer called out Carbott’s name; A dozen called it then. He slowly rose And said, “The hour’s late; time we’re going home,” But leave, they’d not, without from him a song; They called and cheered; and cheered and called along. “Just one,” he said, and took his chair ahead. He hummed awhile as if him to imbue Upon the melody; then out he led TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES: Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been retained from the original. Alternate or archaic spelling has been retained from the original. |
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