San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1889-05-06
HE WANTED A JOB.
BY sHARPEYE.

"TYe struck this sanctum," said he to the
editor, Ito see If could hire out to you as a
poet. / am fairly stopping over with verses
this minute, and an bursting to have your
paper feed them to the public. Unlike some
| razors, l am strapped and want job"
| THE paper is too poetic already" said the
quill driver, dropping hIs eyes on water.
melon that had been left by u granger who ex
pected to have his name dead-headed through
| the next issue. Besides, we have no more
use for poetry than politician has for con-
| science. 1t is out of date, anyhow, and the
victuals II brings into the house wouldn't feed
Doctor Tanner two hours. What is it, anyway,
| since Donnely has made Bacon and Shake
speare inhabt the nine hole? Nothing, scrlb-
bier, nothing. Go home and tell your wife
that the bars are down, else you couldn't have
"Hold on" said the poet, who was burning
five cents worth of bad tobacco with his
| mouth, "you know not my calibre, contents,
| nor capacity. I'm Rhyning Jim from up the
creek. no other lives up higher I'll dip my
pen deep in your beak, and scribble words of
! fire, if you don't let me unload myself OF my
poetic burden"
The editor reached around for his A exter-
minator but the devil had 1t in the back
yard punctuatng rats. Thus helpless, he per-
United the poet to quarry out the follow
ing:
Once a poor son of Eve,
Whom the muses. beguiled.
Mental threads tried to weave
but III weaving nc uleu.
No prayers we're said
Ger the weaver's remains,
AS we mantled the dead
On the grave-dotted plains.
No saddening farewells
sounded DER his bier,
Nor fresh immortelles
Noted synpathy's tear.
For the poor bit of earth.
While presuming to sing,
Had died giving birth
To poem on spring.
AS the editor ran one eye down and the
OtHer one up the foregoing sample. the poet
went couple of eS es on lady CROSSING
muddy street without soiling her skirt. She
DID it neatly, hose sO.ever she was.
The editor. lay ing down the efuStOn, looked
at the offender as if with his mouth and re-
marked; There is too much sadness IN your
effort for this sOrrOwing world We want
smiles and plenty OF them instead OF tears
it accompany you to the rag picker s.. In the
meantime swap your pencil for noe handle.
Your place is behind mule. with a pillow be-
tween you both. In that position there is
bright field before you.
Did you read it over carefully?" inquired
the bard. putting a cloud OF ca0bage-leat at
mosphere over the shears plyer
did not. for the slnple reason that dont
propose to cry my eyes out and then go to my
me as in darkness. No. take 1t away: there's
too much grlet IN IL Tor even an eulIOr'
Give me another chance" interjected the
poo land see if | can't evolve something that
will whoOp up your appreciation until It will
take a step ladder to see it. / ate fish FOR
breakfast and feel brainier than
three hundred pound alderman at
a weighing match. | had the hccoughs
last night. the nightmare the day before and
the jimjams the night before that, so am
desperate to the hollow and, by the obliter-
ated foot prints of Tascott you must give me
another trial"
Here he seized pencil and. in minutes %
seconds by the opinion mOulders Waterbury,
scratched the following on the back OF u re-
jected manuscript:
In the bIOOd-cOvered west,
In the year 'Righty-ninC,
Lived a killer. Jack Vest,
Who was bad in his line.
Yes his record was red,
TrlppIe-painted At that,
For he Toasted on lead
And was fOur-quarterS fat.
But he fell in a jar
With three others or more,
While man hind the bar
Flushed the cutters with gore.
With a foot in each boot
He was planted at eve,
Just because the gOlOot
Herded cards up his sleeve.
The editor put his hands to his ears and
said TOO much sadness, young man. too
much anguish. Take il to some of the funny
papers and practice on them for a while. and
may be in time we might give you whack at
our obituary column"
had swapped hats with fellow who had the
hiU head and small enough to have padded