The Pulaski citizen. [volume] (Pulaski, Tenn.) 1866-current, 1878-03-14
Jest Like Fiddle without de Bow

We find the following production Of tho
"machine poetry cast, floating around in
the columns Of our exchanges. As there Is
much more truth than poetry in IL, and az 1t
gives bit all around; some of which are not
altogether unworthy of consideration, we
make no apology for giving it to our readers.
Whilst sitting on my porch, this morning,
engaged in reading the morning paper a ne
gro girl passed by. On the opposite corner
stood q negro man, who hailed the girl thus:
"Good mornin', Miss Phillis. How does you
feel dis morniniP Phillis replied in the
heading Of this article, "lest iits fiddle
lcifA0ut de bOsc."
put down my paper, and fell into train
of thought. took out my pencil and wrote
down my thoughts, and here transcribe
them for you, giving you the liberty to do
with them as you may see at.
All sorts of folks compose this world;
The rich, the poor, the gay, the sad,
The tall, the short, the white, the black,
The old, the young, the good, the bad.
The teeming millions in pursuit
Ofwealth and happiness below,
on realize the saddeninR truth,
"s/sst Ike a fiddle scifAOut de boa0
The politician lays his plans,
Sure that his friends arc true as steel,
He sacrifices time and means,
Nor apprehension does he feel.
Some other man, with stronger claims,
Steps into Office, then you know,
The disappointed man. must be
''sIess lake a fiddle iOitlOVt de bOse."
The merchant, on his borrowed funds,
Begins a smashing business trade,
He trusts his customers, and soon,
His city bills remain unpaid.
The sheriff closes up his store,
The goods are suctioned very low;
The merchant hangs his head and feels,
''sIesf lake q fiddle iCSthOut De bsiD.n
The farmer buys a tract Of land,
Pays down a third in honest cash.
Fail crops ensue, the other thirds
Remain unpaid, he goes to smash.
Then, all his savings sacrificed,
His horses, wagons all must 60,
His sad experience too will be,
"sJest Ike a fidle ,cithOut de b0l0."
SO with the lawyer in his line,
The doctor with his drugs and pills,
With prospects good, fan ofsuccesr,
All subject TO unlocked for ills.
When overtasked aud sad in look,
Disguised with all things below,
They have "no music in their soul,
"eJeSt like d. tfddte soithom de bosr."
Tho editor lie not exempt,
he writes and puffs and prints each week;
His patrons read his paper through
Well pleased to hnd just what they seek.
They never think the printer needs.
Spondoolix too, to make things go;
And hence the printer often feels,
",lest like a fiddle scith0ut De boss."
How many young men do we see,
Micawber like sit still and frown
waiting for something 10 turn up"
Till all their cash has been turned down.
And then you hear them curse their luck;
The world all wrong, moves Tar too slow,
Poor impecunicus fools! They feel
"sIest liks fiddle l0tfhOut de boD."
The bachelor has sought for years
To find the best girl for wife,
He seeks in vain, but finds In stead,
He's on tho shady Eide OF life.
o how he dyes his silver locksl
Not one gray hair his whiskers show
OF all the world he surely ia
"Jsst Ike Gfddte i0tfhout dc b0ao."
Some ladies too parade the streets,
In Dolly Warden neat and trim,
Turn up their nose at honest toll,
"Dear mel ! would not marry him."
Another will. Be sure OF that.
And you are left alone, TO go
Through life, and be for all the world,
".Jest like a fiddle tcitSouf de bOsO."
Look all around and you will sec
Such folly as will make you laugh,
Al can be happy II they will,
Yet misery's the lot Of half
Time, money, brains all 60 TO waste
With nothing for the waste to show.
This world, by fault of man alone,
lie filled with '.fddIes toifi'0ut dc bo'0."