Category: The Seattle Star

From The Seattle Star, October 14, 1912.
By Berton Braley.
 

 I never can figure my bank account out,
 I’m always in trouble and always in doubt,
 And just when I think I have lots to go on
 The bank sends a notice—“account overdrawn.”
 I don’t understand it; I fuss and I fret,
 But I can’t make the bank “get me,” you bet.
 They point to their figures and I must remit,
 Although I can’t see any reason for it.
 
 I’m sure I am right in the balance I claim,
 But they make me come through when they ask, just the same.
 And they smile in a way condescending and bland,
 When I say that their system I can’t understand;
 For this is the puzzle my brain cells to vex—
 Why doesn’t my money keep pace with my checks?

From The Seattle Star, September 26, 1912.
By Berton Braley.
 

 Jenkins spent his money,
   Took me to a show,
 Took me out to dinner
   Where the big guns go,
 Bought me smokes in plenty,
   Blew his money free;
 Still I didn’t like his
   Hospitality.
 
 Barney gave me greeting
   Free of “froth and foam,”
 Smiled and beamed upon me,
   Took me to his home;
 Made me feel at ease there
   With his family;
 That’s the true and honest
   Hospitality.
 
 ‘Tisn’t in the splendor,
   ‘Tisn’t in the style,
 But in thoughtful kindness
   And the welcome smile.
 Money cannot buy it,
   Not for any fee;
 It’s a gift of nature—
   Hospitality.

From The Seattle Star, September 25, 1912.
By Berton Braley.
 

 The burglar in the story book
 Is really quite a noble crook.
 He’s sure to be a gentleman
 Upon whose high-bred face you scan
 A goodliness that seems to shine
 With every motive pure and fine.
 His clothes are always very smart
 And, my! He has a tender heart.
 
 A baby always makes him quit
 His burgling in the midst of it,
 And if a lady, young and slim,
 Should meet him in the hallway dim,
 He tells her all about his life—
 A bitter struggle, full of strife—
 And leaves the house, his bosom warm
 With brave endeavor to reform.
 Ah, yes, he is a pleasing crook,
 The burglar in the story book.
 
 Alas, for story-book repute,
 The real-life burglar is a brute.
 He is not cultured, swell or smart;
 He has a hard and ruthless heart.
 For sentiment he has no time.
 There is no glamour to his crime,
 And if he meets you in the hall
 He’ll doubtless murder you, that’s all.
 He’s pretty tough and bad and low,
 The burglar that policemen know.