The Weekly Perrysburg journal. [volume] (Perrysburg, O. [Ohio]) 1861-1???, 1867-03-15
Thr Gastaliam :fuunt.
the PRINTERS SEVEN AGES
BY sPIyINs.


:" The worlds stage, and man has seven ages"
so Shakespeare wrote, king Of dramatic sages
The poem you'll find in his lyric finis,
But don't think it hoT SO good as mino is
Yet ye may Judge, and as you read these pages,
Say which is best, his liues-my Printers
Seven Ages"
At first the devil" smeared with printing ink
Rolling the forms that teach a world TO think
With paper cap on head, aud black near either
eye,
True to his name he dabbes first in I've.
And then the cub,' who big with knowledge
grown,
Mounted on box, like Emperor on his throne,
First grasps his stick, and leaning DER his cases;
Learns where the letters are, and where .the
Within month hcll talk. or twill be very odd.
Most leamsdy of difference twixt two and three
EN- quad
And next as jour--a UNION man at that
He enters on the struggle for I" the take that's
phat;"
For in our own, as in all vocations,
Whether making shoes, or in saving nations
Each works for selt-each tries to get the best,
And never gives thought or for all the
rest,
In world or Office, noer arc fortunes favors
scattered
One mans like bran new type another badly
One gets all the fat, t'othor gets on like chap
With regular Sit, setting solid Pica;"
The one has little care, all things work smooth
T'Other, w,rn out, battcr'd, bruisod fit only for
the "hell."
Perhaps our jour as siehing lover shows
His high appreciation" of the joy that flows
From life of welded bliss, and often sighs,
While viewing her sweet lace, her modest, down.
cast eyes,
In matrimonial stream I'll drown my cares,
Find shirts with buttons on, and trowsers without
tears"
All, let him pause, whilst thus fancy sports
See if his case will stand run on small cap sorts
Tho brmming full his cup of joy may be-
His right to strve girl as good as that Of any he
Yet woes will come, (and babies too, fear,l
And all his "twO-line" joys may shtivel to Bre-
And then as foreman, weary and alone,
Making up forms, behold him at the stone.
Rarely, very rarely, from his labor has he ceased,
Till the rosy fingered morn parts the curtains of
the east,
To let the daylight smile on a city soundly sleep
ing
Our topographic friend alone his ceaseless vigils
keeping.
Numerous small cares" too numerous to men
tom
Both day and night demand his close attention;
With sponge in hand, and pen behind his ear,
lIS Hl5nuS tulS pl, OF proves a galley there,
And, as he hears the we'll known warning shout,
Provides smother take for hand first out
Looks, as he goes from one to t'other alley,
II " adve. hand" needs help to fill his galley
IL Bill bis h0rTid murder" has completed;
IL Hank has Garribaldi's troops defeated"
Each article must meet his careful gaze
And thus half servant, and half boss his part he
plays.
Perhaps as editor we find him next,
Damned hlnInpd bV fin irpr
One wants more politics, more rhyme some other,
Give us more news! Print Ms dreadful muir
der -
"Pshaw, what paper T. cries the borro,oing bore,
There's not II line but that Eve read before "
Attempting to please alt he pleases none,
And ere his papers going-it is gone.
The sixth age shifts to tramping jour Eat broke
Completely "out of sorts," and almost ont of
His wardrobe scantv, and his seedy coat,
Uoncealiug lack Of linen, buttoned to the throat
" His youthful tile, well saved" is naples now
and tender,
Showing the big bends got on the last big ben
Stockings, as luxury too great, he scorns,
And, wearing little leather is not plagued with
corns.
Last scene of ALL that ends this history"
Solves for our printer Iife's great mystery.
With joyous greeting, he now welcomes Death
Without murmur renders up his breath.
Fraterual typos at his bedside are,
Ready to render each his kindest care tH
And, when his body to the grave has gone,
Rear Der his names the imposing stone"
Or "solid column" which shall tell,
After life's fever he sleeps WE'LL. .Ief.-l
No more shall copy bad his brain perpex,
Nor outs, nor doublets transpositions, vex
No more shall rack his frame til consumptive
cough,
He's now revised corrected, and worked off.
Oh. when the glad trump shall bid him rise,
With angels he shall 'frisket" to the skies.
Brothers, my task is done. My limping muse
Would beg favor. Can you now refuse
To look upon her work with lenient eye,
" And kindly pass her imperfections by? 2"
Long may meet in brotherly communion,
Firm in our cause-true to our Union.