The Pacific commercial advertiser. [volume] (Honolulu, Hawaiian Islands) 1885-1921, 1889-12-26
PRICE 5 CENTS.
CHRISTMAS THIN TIMES.

None such now days. S kin see:
Great big fireplace, mouth es wide
Els hyar to yander In amt liedD D;
Brassy andines-see yer facet
Chunks so gin 'rous ha' to place
Yer chur way back agin the wall:
Circle big enough fer ali,
Ole folks, com ny, lads an laSSeS,
M nobody 'bleeged to, whin they passes,
AK yer scuse 'em 1ess'n they git
Leetle bit mon they sheer o. the heat.
Tell yer, lads, don't hev no fires
Now days, through thin coops o. wires.
Leetle black rocks in red spittons,
Lift n 'em with silver spoons,
An putin tin pan on the top
'Fo' yer kin make the blazes hop.
Then whin yer take the khiver OF
(Seei hits gin me this hyar cough),
Freezin' feet an scawchin' lashes-
Fancy Eaters in thin aishes,
Or crackin' scaly-barkS on that hyarth!
Lads, thin folks whar say the yarth
IS CROWN better hain't ne'er sot
Roun' a Christmas chunk in ole log-hut,
A-telling o. Their yarns an a-crackin' O.
Their Jokes
The men folks a-waitin' on the wimmin
folks.
Pass aroun' the live coal tell everybody
lights
Talk about yer seegereets, N new Virgin
Cawncob pipe, with cane5rake reed.
Seasoned tell it's whitish, an the sweet
Calling weed
IS good enough fer thin days. Bless me!
hits joke,
But my very eyes is waterin with the
mem 'ry o. the smoke.
Fust and middlemost wuz the gobbler-
Billy cotch him in the pen.
'Longside him these city turkeys
Wouldn't show up no mon wren.
Fawty poun'-I'm speakin' akrate-
Turkeys run viii in thin regi'ns.
Craw itse'f-I've seed it medjered-
Hol' brace o these town plgins.
Hard O. hearing? IT amt supprisin',
Wall, yer may be little deaf.
Tell yer ha' to put that geezud
On platter to itself
Fust an middlemost wuz the gobbler--
Think it tux common pot
Fer that bilin'? Nigger's heyday-
No clean buds that week we got.
Niver seed ole-time b'ilin'P -
Fix yer pot-hanT to the rack,
Swing the rack on to the crossbar, L..
Fol- yer hans then an set back:
ALI the steam flies up the chi1nbly
Nary speck O. suit is seen.
Beats yer ranges, an thin tia things
SmellIn' all o. kerrysene.
-Niver ct aish-cake? MISSY
On this weasselin' gineration!
II amt no marvil they are dwin'lin'
To lillypushin nation
Riz OH patties o cawn-shavin's-
Fancy name is Caraline.
Hain't meier hearn O. aish-cake, homes?
Wall, tell yer, lads, they're fine!
Fust yer git the bigges' cabbage,
An the cleanes' in the patch:
Strip the Outen leaves off keerful,
Gittln' two O. 'em jis to match;
Put yer Gavin dough now in one o. 'em,
Make a khiver o the tother,
Rake a smooth place in the ashes,
Pat it down an smooth 'em over.
Tell yer, lads, I'd ruther set'n'
Smell that aIsh-cake bakin SO
N eat slish o Sally Long
Riz by Devilmonico.
An the coffee. / I'M ole fOgy,
But m homes. lads, leastways.
Did n yer gran ma niver tell yer
How the coffee in thin days
Had a kind o. richer flavor
Than this town-made coffees got?
Don't know eff It was in the coffee,
Or the settlin', or the pot
L hain't sot out explainin'
The whifo' en- the how,
But whin yer pod it in yer cup
"a bowlt they ID call it now,
Feared mo- arnber-like, an then
1t warn't no everlastin' sin
When yer d drunk one cup
Up an hev it filled ag'in.
biscuits? Amt no biscuits now days,
Which won't spen' time a-provin'.
Yer ID sesso, lads, yerese'f, eff you ID
A-peeped in that air oven.
An see thin beauties, mos the size
o. sassers, swellin' thar;
An, es for backbone pie, m ribs
Wen drap the subtle liver.
So much fer the dinner, lads,-
niyer called yer 'tintion
To the roasted aigs an COOLERS,
An clean forgot to mintion
The NEUTRALITY-SUSPICIOUS.
But there's no use 'numeratin',
Fer see yer mouths is waterin'
An know yer yurs is waitin
T hur about the frolickin'
That follered after eatin'.
Yer hearn tell o. that lassie, lads.
What married Billy Boy
Could make cherry tart es quick
3 cat could wink its eye:
hain't particular marked what time
A cat imploys winkin'.
But, lads, thin wimmen folkses Jared
That table, to my thinkin',
Quicker n cat e'er wink; an we
Men folkses, in twinklin',
Had slid it back, an h'isted thar
Ole Joe, who sot to tink rim
The banter, N calm Hans all roun'i'
Tell every mortil sinner,
Young an ole, poly m hale,
Ups n dances down his dinner.
Warn't partic'la lar bout the step, lads,
SO g yer KEEP in banjer-time;
20 s yer please--no Garman fangle,
No silk tails yer feet ter tangte,
Youth THIN days wuz in its prime.
Pass yer caps, lads, drink it down:
Nog is nog the Gentry roun'.
But Christmas THIN days, lads.-ay mel
None SIGH now days, IS / kin see.
Wooden bosses, roaming candles,
Dolls o. wax, an stricked candy:
Some with stockin's fat with goodies,
Yuthers none Their legs to khiver,
Fer the rich folks pow'ful handy,
Fer the po' folks
WAL, / niver
Sot out, lads, to preach sarmint--
No philosopher be.
Only, es / wuz remarkin',
Christmas thin times suited me.
-ORELIA KEY BELL, in the Century.