Western Reserve chronicle. [volume] (Warren, Ohio) 1855-1921, 1869-05-12
Deceit of Song Writers.
BY THE ''FAT oONTEIBUTOE. I"

The man who wrote "Home Sweet
Home" never had a home.-Er-
change.
No, of course not. An his folks at
home say he didn't. Nobody who
writes about anything ever has 1t. II
a man is out of anything he immedi-
ately goes and writes about il. No
one writes so many headings" as
the man who Is out Of his head.
Certainly he didn't have any home.
The man who wrote "Old Arm chair"
never had an arm chair in all his life.
The best he had was an old split
bottom chair without any back to it.
The author of Take Ne Back to
Switzerland" never was in SwitZer-
land. The nearest he ever came to 1t
was sitting in the VIM. Tell saloon
eating SwitZer kase-kase why, that
was the best he could do.
Mother I've Come Home to Die"
hasn't spoken to the old woman for
years, and wouldn't 60 near the house.
Besides, he is one Of that class Of
spiritualists who don't believe they
ever viii die. his health was never
better. His mother Is nothing but
mother in law, and she Is dead, any
how.
There is the author of "Old Oaken
Bucket" too; there wasn't bucket
on the whole farm, water being drawn
with tin pail and cistern pole.
''If L had but thousand q year"
stated privately to his friends that he
would be perfectly eontented with
half that sum as he was doing chores
Just for his board and three months
schooling in the winter.
The author of Champagne Charley"
never drank anything but ten cent
whisky.
The man who wrote MARY had 8
little lambn knew very well II was
nothing but a little lamb fry.
'Shells of Ocean, is a humbug.
The plaintiye poet who represents
himself as wandering, one summers
eve, with seabeat thought, on pens
i've shore, was raised in the interior
of Pennsylvania, and never was ten
miles away from home in all his life.
Gathered Shells, - did he? All the
shells he ever gathered were some egg
shells back of his mothers kitchen.
"Hark / hear the angels singing"
spent all his evenings in 8 concert
bEEl cdADOlAs EiuEEAee AlluCcG4
The man who wrote the s'Song of
the Shirt, " hadn't shirt to his back,
wearing a wampus for the most part.
"Oft in the Silly Night used to
get on a spree and make the Silly
night howl till day break.
The author oi "We met by chance"
knew very well it was all arranged
before hand. He had been weeks in
contriving it,-and she admired his
cOntrivance.
The author of IT know a bank"
&c. didn't know one where he could
get his note discounted. The only
check he ever held was white check
on faro bank. He never had a red
check in all his life.
"What are the wild waves saying ."
knew very well they were reproaeh-
ing him for running away from Long
Branch without paying his hotel bill.
"WhO will care for mother now ?'i
Who, indeed! You took the old
woman to the poor house Just before
writing the song, and there is nobody
but the pOormaster to care for her
now.
Here me, NOrma,n was deaf and
dumb. He couldn't make his pa hear
nor ma.
MY mother dear" used to thrash
the old woman within an inch of her
life.
The author of ''Rain on the roof
always slept in the basement, except
when he slept out of doors.
"Let me kiss him for his mother"
got mad because his mother wouldn't
have him, and whipped her little boy
within an inch of his life.
II dreampt dwelt in marble halls"
used TO cheat at marbles when a boy,
and his dream wasa a horrid nightmare.
brought on by remOrse at the recOl-
lection Of fraudulent marble hdULs.
"I'm saddest when 1 sing" was
tickeled almost to death when invited
to.
Happy be thy Dreams - sold BEN
zine whisky. You can fancy what
kind Of dreams were produced
NO one to love-" having Just kill
ed off his fifth wife, naturally felt
like the devil about it.-CTH. Times.