Tag: Wing Dinger

From the Harrisburg Telegraph, July 25, 1914. By Wing Dinger.

Why is it that this time of year
    With such good things to eat,
We’re stopped from eating all we want
    By the excessive heat.

Take chicken corn pie, say, than which
    A better dish there’s not.
But, gee, you can’t eat all you want,
    Because it is too hot.

Fresh vegetables of all kinds
    Are thrown into the pot,
But when they’re served, though we would like
    To eat them, it’s too hot.

For months I’ve hungered for fresh things—
    Green corn and beans and such—
They’re here now, but it is so hot
    I can’t eat very much.

From the Harrisburg Telegraph, May 14, 1914. By Wing Dinger.

The editor is yelling
    For my poem to-day,
And as it is nine thirty
    I’ll write it right away.

Now let me see, what subject
    Will likely bring a smile.
I have it—but excuse me
    For just a little while.

Someone came in to see me
    On business, that was why
I asked you to excuse me,
    And now to write I’ll try.

I’ve got to do some hustling,
    Because it’s half past ten.
Well, here goes—but pray pardon,
    There is my phone again.

I have just two more minutes
    To write this verse of fun,
And I’ve forgot my subject—
    By jove, it can’t be done.

From the Harrisburg Telegraph, May 6, 1914. By Wing Dinger.

They make-a greata beega noise
    In deesa town to-day,
Da crowds all leesten to da tune
    Da beega brass band play.

I ask, “What ees dees fuss about,
    Why do dey yell hurray?”
And some one tell me, “Why, you boob,
    Da season starts to-day.”

I follow to da park dey call
    Da baseball field, and pay
My leetle quart for one small tick
    To see da two teams play.

Da players throw da ball about;
    Da crowds dey yell and shout;
Some times da man day call da “ump”
    Says “safe,” and sometimes “out.”

And when he say “you’re safe” to one
    Of da home team, he’s right,
But if he say “you’re out,” da bunch
    Gets mad enough to fight.

I wouldn’t want to be da ump,
    He’s got one nasty job;
No matter what he says da crowd
    Calls him one great beeg slob.

But seeng of love for chickens, cows
    And war, with all eets strife,
To seet upon da bleachers at
    A ball game, dat’s da life.

From the Harrisburgh Telegraph, March 9, 1914. By Wing Dinger.

Up in Albany der bunch
    Of Lawmakers got busy
Discussing Tangos, Castle Walks
    Und other dances dizzy.

Vun chap said, “Ugh, dey neffer saw
    Such sights in grandpa’s day
As can be seen most any night
    About der cabaret.

“You’ll see a couple slide about,
    Ven suddenly dey slip
Und mit der knees dey hit der floor,
    Dat’s vat dey call der dip.

“Or maybe in der middle of
    A dance der girl vill faint,
Her partner holds her off der floor,
    But she unconscious ain’t.

“Dat only is anudder stunt
    Dat makes der dance unique,
Und dere’s a heap of udder dings
    About vhich I could speak.

“But vat I want to say is dis,
    Dese dances shouldn’t be,
So I vill resolution dat
    Ve name a Committee.

“Und it vill go about der State
    Investigating dings
About dese naughty dances, und
    Make some recommendings.”

Und ven der news got spread abroad,
    Such crowds you neffer saw
For jobs on der committee to
    Inspect dose dances raw.