Gallipolis journal. [volume] (Gallipolis, Ohio) 1837-1919, 1874-09-03
Deceit of Song Writers.
ne Fat Contributor.l

The man who wrote "HOme, Sweet
Home, never had home.-EechdRge.
No, of course not. All his folks
at home say he didn't. Nobody who
writes about anything ever had it.
If man is out of anything he i'm
mediately goes and writes about it.
No man writes so many headings"
as the man who is out of his head.
Certainly he didn't ever have any
home. The man who wrote "Old
Arm Chair" never had any arm chair
in all his life. The best ne had was
an old split-bottom chair without any
back to it.
The author of Take Me Back to
Switzerland" never was in Switzer-
land. The nearest he ever came to
it was sitting in the William Tell sa-
loon eating Switzer-kase--kase why,
that was the best he could do.
Mother, I've Come Home to Die"
has not spoken to the old woman for
years, and wouldn't 90 near the
house. Besides, he is of that class
of spiritualists who don't believe
they will ever die. His health was
never better. His mother is nothing
but mother-in-la law, and she is dead,
anyhow.
There is the author of "Old Oaken
Bucket" too. There wasn't a buck
ct on the whole farm, water being
drawn with a tin pail and cistern
pole.
'If | Had Buta Thousand Year"
stated privately to his friends that he
would be contented with half that
sum, as he was doing chores just for
his board and three months schooling
in winter.
The author of champagne Char
ley" never drank anything but ten
cent whisky.
The man who wrote "AIary Had 4
Little Lamb knew very well that it
was nothing but little lamb fry.
'Shells of Ocean" is a humbug.
The plaintive poet who represents
himself as wandering, one summer
eve, with sea beat thought, on a pen
sive 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 Sing"
spent all his evenings in concert |
beer saloon. Angels, indeed
The man who wrote the "Song of !
the Shirt hadn't 4 shirt to his back,
wearing wampus for the most
part.
loft in the Silly Night used to
get on a spree and make the Silly
night howl till daylight
The author of 'We Met by Chance"
knew very well it was arranged be
forehand. He had been weeks con-
triving it--and she admired his con-
trivance.
The author of 81 Know Bank"
etc, did not know one where he could
get his note discounted. The only
check he ever held was white check
at q faro bank. He never held a red |
check in all his life.
'EWhat Are the Wild Waves Say
ing?" knew very well that they were
reproaching him for running away
from Long Branch without paying
his hotel bill.
"Who Will Care for Mother Now"
Who, indeed? You took the old wo-
man to the poor house just before
writing the song, and there is no
body but the postmaster to care for
her now.
"Hear Me, Norma" was deaf and
lumb. He couldn't make his pa
hear, nor ma.
"My Mother, Dear" used to thrash
lhe old woman within an inch of her
ife.
The author of Grain 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
nave him, and whipped her little boy
within an inch of his life.
II Dreamt l Dwelt in Marble
Halls used to cheat at marbles when
! boy, and his dream was hOrrid
nightmare, brought on by the remOrse
It the recollection of fraudulent mar
)le hands.
"Pm Saddest When l Sing" was
ickled almost to death if invited to.
Happy be Thy Dreams" sold ben
line whisky. You can fancy what
lind of dreams were produced.
''No One to Love" having just killed
IF his fifth wife, naturally felt like I
he devil about it.