The Stark County Democrat. [volume] (Canton, Ohio) 1833-1912, 1899-10-20
oHIOANs IN IOWA.


Mr.. George NJ Hippee, Of Des Moines,
Iowa, A. McGregor received copy of
the Ohio State Register which gives an
account of the annual picnic of the sons
and daughters Of Ohio. They seem to
have had an interesting time which was
much enjoyed recalling and recounting
Irecollections and incidents of their early
lives in their native state, reciting
poems and even giving geography les
son in the old way when they sang the
state capitals, all which served to hap
PLY pass the day.
Mr.. Hippee well remembers his tea
cher in Canton Of over so years ago and
hence sends him the paper containing
the account of the Buckeye picnic. We
append the conclusion in order to give
the readers of the News Democrat the
benefit of the original parody which
brought down the house"
After C. NJ. Read had recited the
familiar Ohio poem, 1--WE Wandered to
the Village, Tom,' Mr.. c. H. Robertson
followed with an original parody which
brought down the house. The parody
follows:
FORTY YEARS AGO.
I've wandered to the village Tom, I've
found the very tree
Where the master got the rods, dear
Tom, to use on YOU and me.
The rods were just as tough, Tom, as
those it used to grow
To warm our jackets well, dear Tom,
some forty years ago.
You know the fine old school ground,
Tom, where as boys we used to- play,
At town ball, cat or corner ball, on
every holiday?
Well, boys were there today, Tom, but
their games you'd hardly know;
Twas little like the ball we played some
forty years ago.
You see they have an umpire now, who
regulates the game;
They call 1t base ball. too, think, and
it well deserves the name,
For 1t surely is the basest game ever
tried to know.
And their language sounded like the
Greek of forty years ago.
The bats they use are large round
sticks; the catcher wears a mask;
There were none upon the corners, Tom,
and when 1 began to ask
Why they never tried to cross men out,
the laugh was on me so
/ said no more about the game of forty
years ago.
Their other games I've seen, Tom;
they're not like those of old;
They never play at prisoners base, and
that I'll always hold
Was the very ,bsst for boys and girls of
all we used to know.
| I'd like to see some games we played
some forty years ago.
Their books are not like ours were
Tom, they've spelling books no more;
| Orthography they call it now-say
spelling is bore;
They never sing geography, and the
| teaching all seems slow
Compared with what was given us some
forty years ago.
You know the swimming hole, dear
Tom, that was just below the mill?
And the fishing place still farther down,
close by the quarry hill2
| Well, the railroad came that way, Tom,
| and the hole was filled below,
And all the fish they disappeared near
forty years ago.
You remember little Alice, Tom, dear
little Alice Lane?
| Who was my early sweetheart, Tom;
yours was her sister Jane.
Well, l met Jane this morning, Tom,
but I'm sure you'd never know
Her as the charming, slender maid Of
forty years ago.
She surely weighs two hundred Tom,
her face is red and fat;
And Alice-well, she's larger yet; who'd
ever thought of that?
And, Tom, she's eleven children, too
now isn't that go
. For the slender little maid 1 loved some
| forty years ago.
I'm coming back tomorrow, Tom; I'll
take the early train,
And If l live to reach Des Moines Til
not come here again.
The church yard holds the most, dear
Tom, of those we used to know,
Who played and went to school with us
some forty years ago.