Perrysburg journal. (Perrysburg, Wood Co., O. [Ohio]) 186?-1965, 1877-08-10
A Professional Visit to the Obituary
Poet

He was a couutry-looking chap, with
an odd mixture of sorrow and resignation
on his lean countenance, and he dropped
upon The startled advertising clerk of
the-well, to save trouble we won't locate
the paper, but call it the Sunday Union
with the mysterious whisper of
"She's gonep
"Whos gomez" asked the clerk.
"Marier."
"Who in thunder's Marier?"
"My wife; she's gonel"
"GOne where?"
cup above-died last night; want you
to put it up in your next ISSUE"
"What allied her?'
"Lockjaw. She lay for three weeks
and couldn't speak. Never had such a
quiet time in the house before. just do
the notice up fine, will you, an I'll see
that everything is fixed up all right"
Accordingly the clerk scribbled away
for a moment, handed out what he had
written for inspection, and CURLY re-
marked:
"Dollar thirty-five."
The bereaved husband read it over
carefully, and finally gave a sigh of sat
isfaction.
"That's all right" said he, handing
over the required specie, "but / s'pose
you could put verse on the end, couldn't
your"
"Well, yes" ruminated the clerk, "I
guess so. What kind of verse do you
want?"
"Sumthin' tender.like an sorrowful." )"
How would this do?" asked the clerk,
scratching his head with the end of his
penholder:
perfect female, folks did consider her,
She's gone and left weepin' widower!
"That's kinder melancholy" reflected
the stranger, "but reckon it's leetle
| Jest leetle-too personal. Jest you
| try again. l don't mind putin up han
sum for sumthin' thatll rake folks heart
strings"
The clerk gazed at the ceiling for a
moment, and then suggested:
The husbands lost wife,
The children ma.
Died on Friday night
| From the lockjaw!
"Yes," broke out the mourner, wiping
his nose on a black-bOrdere6 handker'
chief, "but dou't own any young unsP
"What do you think of this, then?"
She always was contented,
AT life she'd never carp.
Gone to be an angel
And play on golden harp.
"Don't believe that'll suit. You see,
Marier couldn't even play on a pianner
an know a harp would stun her, sure
Poor woman! She had tender heart
though, and made the most elegant bis
cult you ever saw"
Hanged if l won't have to charge yov
extraw growled the clerk. 81 amt &
Longfellow nor Tennyson."
~ know" meekly replied the "weep
in widower." Jest try once more, won'
your"
So the clerk did try, and at last grounC
out the following:
On earth could not stay Marier,
So she died and went up higher.
"Sorter irreverent, amt it?" anxiously
asked Marier's relict. 81 reckon
wouldn't grudge couple of dollars for
bang-up verse;"
Thus stimulated the machine poet be
came suddenly inspired, and exultingl.
produced
Cry for Marier,
Alas! she is no more
Joined the singing seraphs
Upon the other shore.
The afflicted one uneasily took chev
of tobacco and whispered:
Beautiful! But there's one thing tina
spiles it, Marier hadn't any more melo
dy in her than an old plow, an it's de
liberit lynn to speak of her as vocalist
None of them other sirups (seraphs) yol
alluded to could keep time with her."
"Well, "thoughtfully remarked the dis
comfited Wood, eff this amt all o. X
you'll have to hire special poet. In
played OUT:
Affections sore
Long time she bore,
Physicians were in vain!
Lockjaw ketched her,
Death it fetched her,
Gone-to rise again.
"Tell you what" enthusiastically ex
claimed the widower, that's tip-top
Here's your two dollars; you've airn
them. A young man that can make u
sich affect;n' lines as them has glOriou
future before himp
And, squeezing the affected poets hand
the elated speaker left in search of a pal
of black kid gloves.-HubbIrds NetOspO