Captain Billy's Whiz Bang, Vol. 2, No. 24, September, 1921 / America's Magazine of Wit, Humor and Filosophy

Smokehouse Poetry

Smokehouse Poetry for October will feature three poems: one, the plea of a prisoner; the second, a thrilling story of the squared ring by the author of “The Kid’s Last Fight,” and the third, a comic jazz verse after Langdon Smith’s “Evolution.”

“The Prisoner’s Prayer,” which is to be Number One on the poetry billboard for October, was written on the stone wall of the Federal penitentiary at McNeil Island, Washington, in September, 1909. It was later memorized by another prisoner and just recently forwarded to the Whiz Bang upon his release.

“So hear ye the prayers from the prison,

Where fever and famine are rife;

Where never one soul has arisen,

Where many go down in the strife.”

In response to inquiries from many readers we have obtained another copy of “The Gila Monster Route” to replace the one which Maggie, the hired girl, lost during our last farm house cleaning bee. It will be published in the Winter Annual.

* * *

Betrayed

By Angela Morgan

Bad, hopelessly bad!

I yielded to love that sways mankind,

Not the mere measure of bodily pleasure,

But love that wakes in the soul and the mind,

Born of the spirit at God’s behest:

And I bartered all I had.

I, with the warmth of a child at my breast—

Am bad, hopelessly bad!

Yet the power that molded my little son,

Is the same that moved for the wedded one;

Creation’s woes were just the same;

Had he only borne a father’s name.

Did love, that old fashioned universe

Fashion alike my curse?

Listen, you who are true and good,

White and strong in your motherhood;

You with your wedding ring safe on your finger,

You who can linger, righteous and clean in love’s embrace:

Tell me the reason that I am base!

Are you so different after all?

I answered the same high golden call

I yielded to love that is proud of pain—

Love, that reckoned not for gain;

And nature has made my child so fair,

As the child on your very shoulder there.

The same great impulse, deep and glad,

That hurls the suns and drives the earth

Brought both our children to this earth.

Yet ... you are good and I am bad,

Vicious and evil and low, they say—

“A girl who has gone astray”;

Yet the milk of my life is warm and white

That runs to his hungry mouth at night;

My words are soft, my arms are sweet,

My hands are kind to his little feet.

Can I, who live for my baby’s smile,

Be vile, hopelessly vile?

O, great, broad, beautiful judgment day,

When dogmas of man are rent asunder,

And superstition is wiped away,

Will you plead for me, will you gently speak

For us who are voiceless and weak?

Plead for us, who must ever wonder?

Why we are hounded and held at bay—

We who can love, we who can pray:

We, the mothers, who might be glad,

But are broken at heart and bitter and sad;

O, Future Day, will you write in flame,

The reason for sin and the reason for shame?

That in all the city there seemed no room

No sweet clean place for my heart to bloom!

Oh, will you terribly tell the truth;

That the world which offers no worthy place,

For the light that shines in my baby’s face,

Offered no shelter for love and youth,

No guarding presence who understood,

My blossoming womanhood?

So I sought his arms as a bird to nest

And I ... with the warmth of a child on my breast

I ... who bartered all that I had

Am bad ... hopelessly bad!

* * *

The Unwritten Law

By Budd L. McKillips

“Don’t kid me, I know that I’m dyin’,

The song of my life has been sung;

I’m done and there’s no use in tryin’

To patch up a bullet torn lung.

“I’ll bet, Doc, you think I’m a tough one

Who’d fight at the stroke of the bell—

You’re right, Doc, my life’s been a rough one,

And now I am headed for hell.

“I used to be decent as any

Young man in that little mill town;

My friends in the village were many,

Until I commenced to go down.

“’T’aint long when a fellow starts hittin’

The booze till he’s gone the whole way;

And then when he thinks about quittin’,

He’s found that the devil’s to pay.

“A woman—they’re always the reason

In my case the girl was my wife;

We married—were happy a season

And then trouble entered my life.

“The man—we’d been palin’ together

Since both of us started to school;

I thought that he’d stick through all weather,

I trusted him—just like a fool.

“He lived in my home like a brother,

For months our life went like a song,

And then I began to discover,

That somethin’ in life had gone wrong.

“I watched till I thought I detected

My wife was wrapped up in his charms,

Then dropped into home unexpected,

And found her clasped tight in his arms.

“I came in the room as she kissed him,

He saw me and begged for his life;

I shot at the cur, but I missed him—

He ran and left me with my wife.

“My—wife—God! I’d found her no better

Than women who live on the street,

So diff’rent than when I first met her—

She screamed and fell dead at my feet.

“Then somethin’ inside my brain parted

Like strings on a harp stretched too tight—

Doc, that was the time I got started;

I changed in a minute that night.

“A few of my friends have stuck by me,

And assisted in lightening my load,

But the way most of them would eye me;

Soon caused me to hit for the road.

“From city to city I’ve wandered,

And month after month rolled around;

What money I had I soon squandered,

But nowhere was peace to be found.

“Sometimes for a day I’d be cheerful,

The thoughts of revenge would be still;

And then my poor brain would be clear full

Of him I had sworn I would kill.

“Well, yesterday evenin’ I met him,

He begged and he pleaded and cried

For help, but I’d promised to get him—

I choked the dang cur till he died.

“To make the job certain I drilled him

With five or six shots from my gun—

I’d killed him, yes dang him, I’d killed him!—

A cop came my way on the run.

“I started to run to the river,

Then felt a sharp pain in my breast;

And fell in the street all aquiver—

A bullet had gone through my chest.

“There’s no use to tell you the rest, Doc,

There’s nothin’ much more I can tell;

I’m happy, what I did was best, Doc—

They’re waitin’ for me down in hell.

“It feels like the room’s gettin’ colder;

It’s dark and I’m startin’ to choke,

There’s somethin’ ahold of my shoulder!

So long Doc, I’m—goin’—to—croak.”

* * *

Going Down

Man’s life is a vapour

And full of woes;

He cuts a caper

And down he goes,

And down, and down,

And down he goes.

* * *

In my ear is the moan of the pines;

In my heart is the song of the sea

And I feel his wild breath on my face

As he showers his kisses on me.

And I hear the wild scream of the gulls

As they answer the call of the tide;

And I see the white sails, as they glisten

Like gems on the breast of a bride.

* * *

Hail to the Devil Dog

He’s a drinker and a driller,

He’s a gambler and a sport;

He’s a hard old hand at fighting,

But at work he’s rather short,

The devil likes his fighting,

And the beauty way it’s done;

He’s a cross between a Christian

And the devil’s only son.

His vice is like the most of men,

His virtue like a few,

But when you thump his metal,

You’ll find it’s ring is true;

He’s honored by the title,

Of a soldier and a man,

He’s Uncle Sammy’s nephew,

And all American.

* * *

A Tip For Wifey

When your husband telephones to say,

“I won’t be home to-night

Till after twelve, I’ve lots to do,”

Just say, “Dear boy all right,

I’m going out myself to-night

And won’t be in till late.”

Will he come home on time? You bet

He’ll also come home straight.

* * *

Have a Drink, Boys?

They were on a fast train through Arkansas (?).

Every few minutes the lady across the aisle held a bottle to her lips. The traveling man was thirsty.

“How do you do,” said he. “What have you in that bottle, home brew?”

“No,” she said, “I have consumption.”

* * *

Always

Face the Music

Even if it is your landlady’s daughter playing “The Maiden’s Prayer” on a square piano. Some day you might be back on your board bill.

* * *

You need your money

And I need mine,

If we both get ours

It will sure be fine,

But if you get yours

And hold mine, too,

What in the divil

Am I going to do?

* * *

In the Game of Love

In her first blossom, woman loves her lover;

In all the others, all she loves is love.

Here’s lovers two to the maiden true,

And four to the maid caressing,

But the wayward girl with the lips that curl,

Keeps twenty lovers guessing.

* * *

The dramatic triangle is caused by people not being on the square.

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