Worcester Democrat and the ledger-enterprise. (Pocomoke City, Md.) 1921-1953, 1937-06-04
~
from the
Democrats Pen

ple can recall what said some time
ago in this column about a cock-a-
doodle-do specimen of the genus
chicken chickens, Pm talk
ing about-that had a sort of jazz
note in his throat which became in
evidence everytime he attempted to
greet the sun as its first sublime rays
showed above the horizon; and also
these same jazzy notes greeted my
ears as I sought to enjoy the last nap
of the nights repose- always the
sweetest.
Well, want to apologize to this Mr..
Rooster. Been intending to do so
ever since 1 found out the truth of
the matter. This chandeliers crow
ing apparatus is perfectly normal. I
can testify to it, because I counted
twenty-nine salutes he fired in honor
of the coming day, and every one was
in accord with the traditions of his
best strain and he executed his salvo
with the least little bit of strain. That
may SOU4O RE1x0OOAAC01 UUt ~ L11C
fault of the English language. I
couldn't help it.
But, where do you suppose the mis-
take lay in my Interpretation of that
barnyard song? Believe it or not,
it was member of the feminine gen.
der that was attempting to initiate
her lord and master-the cock of the
walk. She was trying to crow in
stead of caclxle. When / was told
about this, made further investiga-
ton to see whether this modernistic
female might not be smoking ciga
rette, strutting around in street pa
jamas, or taking nip of something
that, they say, comes seeping through
the silos and has kick a good deal
stronger than one-half of one percent,
either in volume or content.
didn't catch her in the act of
putting on any of those acquired man
nish airs, but, while l was looking
on, she let out one of those shrieks
had underestimate and it sounded
to me like she. was usin' some cuss
words. 1t had the tone of an infur-
lated old lady who was laying her old
man out for something. He came
back with one of his orthodox chords,
and I was just wondering who was
getting the better of the argument.
Not being acquainted however, with
the lingo of chickens, could only sur
mise. But / have heard that, now-a-
days, the emphasis sometimes put on
conversation, embodying certain words
and phrases which would not look
well in print, is not the personal pro-
property of the man-sex. In these
latter days of progress and precocity,
the women folk can cuss in as good
United States grammar as their SUI
perior CD form of human-kind-"T
Man." And, wonder of wonders, the
new order of things had reached the
abode of my neighbors fowl pens, and
the Missus, know, was berating her
better half in terms he understood, as
well as we higher order of creation
can do. Amt it so?
You know, in some of these Sun
day papers, there is a page devoted
to puzzles stickers, sometimes they
are called. Well, one example of
these is a drawing called mistakes
o-graphs," wherein all sorts of be-
ings-human and inhuman are doing
unheard-of and impossible things.
Well, last Sunday, the mistaken
grapher had drawn a base ball park
with game in progress. Some of
the blunders were: grand stand with
the outlook away from the diamond,
it was looking backward over the
fence; runner was footing it from
third base to second; the umpire had
his back turned to the home plate,
while judging balls and strikes; the
first baseman was sitting on the bag,
smoking a cigarette; umpire has a
frying pan on his head, instead of a
mask; a sign was pointing to first
base; steps are on the first base line;
a telegraph pole is on the playing
field, with lighted candle on one
of the cross arms; player was hiking
for first base, without ever having
a bat to hit with in his hands;-and
so on, ad ibitum, pluribus unum,
sic semper tyrannis, now and forever.
What was wondering is, whether
the artist of that caricature had Wis
tied the Pocomoke ball park for Sat
mosphere," as it were. According to
rumors that come flying over the
fence, there's lots of things that are
not going right out there. At least
the big end of the score is generally