Tag: Philander Johnson

From the Evening Star, September 27, 1912.
By Philander Johnson.
 

 We had another speaker down to Pohick on the Crick.
 We all put on our Sunday clothes an’ had ‘em neat an’ slick.
 We waited for his eloquence to thrill us through an’ through
 Deliverin’ instructions on what nations ought to do.
 But he never stood before us on that platform strong and high!
 Before he struck the steps the Miggins baby caught his eye.
 He grabbed it from its mother an’ he held it up to view
 An’ shook his finger at it while he hollered “Coochy-coo!”
 
 You should have heard the cheerin’! We set up a mighty shout!
 You should have seen the way fond parents trotted babies out.
 An’ he never turned an eyelash. To the finish he was game.
 He took the little fellers an’ he treated all the same.
 We’ll vote for him for certain. Every mother in the town
 Will see that every father gets the proper ballot down;
 Though I must confess in private, I don’t understand—do you?—
 Why we’d send a man to office jes’ for sayin’ “Coochy-coo!”

From the Evening Star, September 21, 1912.
By Philander Johnson.
 

 Oh, happy was the childhood hour
   When Father paid the bills
 And left us free to grasp the flower
   That blossomed on the hills!
 Those were the days in which we took
   No thought of taxes high,
 Nor feared the grafter or the crook
   Who might be drawing nigh.
 Three meals per day were always there;
   So was the dwelling place.
 We thought that Father’s greatest care
   Was simply to say grace.
 And so we wandered light and free,
   Without a trace of woe,
 Each had no thoughts save those of glee,
   Unless he stubbed his toe.
 Now greater wisdom bids us pause
   And grateful memory thrills.
 We were so happy then because
   Dear Father paid the bills.

From the Evening Star, September 15, 1912.
By Philander Johnson.
 

 By hard experience we learn,
   Whatever our position,
 And pay, whichever way we turn,
   Right dearly for tuition.
 
 Before we walk we have to creep;
   We rise with many a tumble;
  Before we learn life’s road to keep
   How often must we stumble!
 
 Ere we can learn to think we grope
   Through much fantastic folly.
 Our smiles of friendship and of hope
   Are earned through melancholy.
 
 And so it is with every man,
   And so with many a nation;
 It is a part of nature’s plan—
   Compulsory education.