Tag: Roy K. Moulton

From The Topeka State Journal, April 3, 1913.
 By Roy K. Moulton.
 

 He fell upon his bended knees
 And said: “Oh Agnes, wed me please.”
 He told her that she was his queen
 The grandest gal he’d ever seen
 That no one had no eyes like her’n—
 At least so fur as he could learn.
 He said he’d never seen so rare
 And gorgeous a display of hair.
 He said her figger was immense
 And hoped she wouldn’t take offense
 Because he mentioned such a thing,
 For of it poets often sing.
 He said he’d traveled all around
 And never had he heard a sound
 So musical as was her voice.
 She was his one and only choice.
 He’d give her all he had to give,
 Without her he could never live.
 No friend was by, his speech to stay.
 He wound up in the usual way.
 She gave to him her maiden heart—
 It was a cinch right from the start.
 
 For, while she let him have his say,
 He had no chance to get away.
 She had him lashed right to the mast
 And tied and shackled hard and fast.
 He didn’t know what he had said,
 He simply knew that they were wed;
 And when to breakfast she came down,
 Years later in an old house gown,
 Without a sign of curl or rat,
 And ready for the daily spat,
 He wondered how in thunder she
 Could have inspired the ecstasy
 Upon that great momentous night
 On which he made and won his fight.
 And then it percolates his brain
 As it has done time and again
 That she just had him hypnotized
 Until he raved and idolized.

From The Topeka State Journal, March 14, 1913.
 By Roy K. Moulton.
 

 I don’t want to live in Arcadia,
     Quite willingly I confess;
 The realm that the poets rave about,
     The kingdom of happiness;
 Where all is serene as a morn in Spring,
     Birds singing in every tree.
 There must be a catch in the thing somewhere.
     It doesn’t look good to me.
 
 The work in Arcadia is a cinch;
     They watch the sheep all day,
 And when they need music to while the time
     They hunt up their flutes and play.
 They work on a very peculiar plan.
     The salaries there are nil.
 No one ever saw an Arcadian
     Who had a two dollar bill.
 
 They wear sheepskin togas so very brief
     They reach only to the knees,
 And caper about in a care-free way
     No matter how chill the breeze.
 There’s nothing but happiness in that land
     With the proletariat,
 But I couldn’t ever be happy enough
     To dress in a rig like that.
 
 The life in Arcadia listens tame
     With no moving picture show,
 And never a single league bowling game,
     And never a chance to go
 And see a good circus and eat peanuts
     Or laugh at the chimpanzee.
 There may be pure joy in Arcadia,
     But this town looks good to me.

From The Topeka State Journal, March 7, 1913.
 By Roy K. Moulton.
 

 Oft in the stilly night,
     Ere slumber’s chains have bound me
 Just when I’ve neatly tucked
     The flannel blanket ‘round me,
 There comes the alarming thought,
     With possibilities dire;
 I know that I have forgot
     To fix that blamed furnace fire.
 
 I scramble out in the cold
     With every nerve fibre quaking;
 My nasal appendage is blue;
     My elbows and knees are shaking.
 I stumble o’er rugs and chairs
     And make a terrible noise
 By falling downstairs head first—
     I’ve tripped on a pile of toys.
 
 I strike a tin railroad train,
     And slide o’er the hard oak floor
 On elbows and shoulder blades;
     My head bangs against a door.
 When I reach the basement depths,
     I’m sick and I’m sore and lame,
 I open the furnace mouth
     And seek for the tongue of flame.
 
 I find that the fire’s all right;
     That it’s just as it ought to be
 To last through the entire night
     And that’s where the joke’s on me.
 I remember when it’s too late,
     As I rub each lame bruised spot,
 I’d fixed the blame thing all right—
     I’d fixed it and then forgot.

From The Topeka State Journal, March 3, 1913.
 By Roy K. Moulton.
 

 I thought that I might buy a car and zip around the countryside.
 I went to see an agent and he took me for a nice long ride.
 Somehow the news got noised around and fifteen agents called me
 And took me out in brand new cars, their points of excellence to see.
 
 This thing went all year around, and really, folks, it was immense;
 I toured all over half the state without a nickel of expense.
 Why should I own a touring car? I am not missing any fun;
 I can go riding all the time with agents who would sell me one.

From The Topeka State Journal, February 22, 1913.
 By Roy K. Moulton.
 

 I dwelt within a palace grand
 With hired help on every hand
 I ran the place at large expense
 The luxury was just immense.
 I lived on porterhouse and quail
 My chef knew no such word as “fail.”
 I had a splendid limousine
 A seven-passenger machine
 I also owned a racing car
 And there was not a thing to mar
 My peace of mind. I knew no toil
 I didn’t have to do a thing
 From spring to fall and fall to spring.
 I had no worry on my mind
 Or vain regret of any kind.
 My castle was a sight to see
 I had ten men to wait on me
 And when I got a bill, by heck,
 My secretary wrote a check.
 I lolled about and took my ease
 With bank notes piled up to my knees.
 Then something happened suddenly
 My wife came in the room and she
 Said as she gave my hair a jerk:
 “Wake up, you chump, and go to work.”

From The Topeka State Journal, February 21, 1913.
 By Roy K. Moulton.
 

 I remember back in the eighties when Hank Frisby went to school
 Everybody in the village had him doped out for a fool.
 Fer he was so gol dum homely, all the critics in the place
 Said there wasn’t no intelligence or larnin’ in his face.
 He was tall, rawboned and knockneed and as awkward as a cow
 And the gals they always passed him by and never smiled nohow.
 He was bashful and was awkward and he seemed to have no vim
 And the fellows round the school house always poked their fun at him.
 

 Nuthin’ much was said about it when he left our town one day
 Hardly anybody knowed the fact that he had gone away.
 Once in a while they’d mention Hank and wonder where he went
 But nobody ever found out, fer they didn’t care a cent.
 Nigh a dozen years passed by and then one day a thing occurred
 And it caused more lively gossip than the town had ever heard.
 Great big auto came a-tearin’ down the main street with a yank
 And the feller in the back seat givin’ orders—he was Hank.
 

 Hank had been out west and struck a vein of ore both wide and deep
 And he picked up half a million while our town folks were asleep.
 When he jumped out of his auto full of vigor and of vim
 You should have seen the town folks all a toadyin’ to him.
 He put up a splendid mansion and he wed the village belle
 And he has his dinner evenin’s—or at least that’s what they tell.
 He’s mayor now and owns a mill, a railroad and a bank
 And there’ no one in the village who ain’t mighty proud of Hank.

From The Topeka State Journal, February 20, 1913.
 By Roy K. Moulton.
 

 It isn’t so hard to be happy
     And have everything that you need
 A yacht and a fine automobile
     Which grinds out a wonderful speed;
 Fine porterhouse steak every evening
     And eggs for your breakfast each morn;
 A fine house and lot in the suburbs
     And clothes that are not patched and worn
  A lot of hard coal in the cellar
     A library full of fine books
 A houseful of excellent servants
     Including the finest of cooks
 A trip to the seashore each summer
     And Europe whene’r you would go;
 No,  it isn’t so hard to be happy
     If you’ve got nine millions or so.

From The Topeka State Journal, February 3, 1913.
 By Roy K. Moulton.
 

 Grand Opry as a form of entertainment can’t be beat.
 I love to cough up ten good bones and buy myself a seat.
 To hear some howling tenor from some low-browed foreign land
 Come forth and yell a lot of stuff that I can’t understand.
 
 I simply dote on listenin’ for several mortal hours
 While them high-priced sopranners exercise their vocal powers.
 I think I get my money’s worth. Oh yes, of course I do
 And I am always sorry when the jamboree is through.
 
 There’s nothing I like half so well and for a chance to go
 I’d walk five miles in my bare feet right through the ice and snow.
 I know what you are thinking, I’ve got your thought wave quite-
 You’re thinking I’m a liar and I guess you’re thinking right.