Edwin C. Ranck

Said Sue to her suitor: "You'll get a new suit, or I'll sue for a suitor to suit."

I never saw a loaf of bread Conspicuous in its purity, But that I sadly shook my head

Old Mother Hubbard She went to the cupboard, To find a nice bone for her dog.

A funny thing once happened to a German from Berlin, For once he got too gay and seized a swordfish by the fin, This made the big fish angry, and he sawed the German's chin.

I never walk along the street Because I haven't any feet; Nor is this strange when I repeat

He led her out across the sand, And by her side did sit: He asked to hold her little hand,

Here's to dear Ould Ireland, Here's to the Irish lass, Here's to Dennis and Mike and Pat,

'Twas on the f-f-f-first of April D-D-Day, W-w-w-when Nature s-s-smiled and all w-w-was gay, And I--w-w-why I was in a w-w-whirl,

Ting-ling--"South, please, 1085; Why hello, Jim--Oh, Saints alive! It's south, I told you--hello; no,

Mary had a little lamb, The lamb was always buttin' So Mary killed the little lamb

Say, I like toys, Christmas toys. Remember when we were boys

A college professor one day Was fishing in Chesapeake Bay; Said a crab to his mate,

(After Walt Whitman.) That light, that white, that weird, uncanny substance we call snow Is slowly sifting through the bare branches--and ever and anon

There was once a young man quite erratic Who lived all alone in an attic, He wrote magazine verse

I hate the fellow who sits around And knocks the livelong day-- Who tells of the work he might have done;

A night when witches skim the air, When spooks and goblins climb the stair; When bats rush out with muffled wings,

An impudent Barbary ape Once tried on a lady's new cape. As he gave a big grin,

(What the Little Boy Thought.) If I had wings just like a bird Do you know what I'd do?

(After Ben King, Dedicated to E. Jesse Conway.) If I were City Editor And you should come to my cold desk and choke,

The Incubus. The way was dark within the gloomy church-yard, As I wandered through the woodland near the stream,

(A Response to Judge Mulligan's Famous Toast.) The moonlight may be softest In Kentucky,

When you're feelin' blue as ink An' your spirits 'gin to sink, Don't be weak an' take a drink

I'm the ghost of that poor gobbler Who used to be so great, They took my poor, neglected bones

"Oh lend me five," the young man cried, "My money all is spent." The maiden shook her head and sighed,

The list is long, the stories read the same; Strong mortal man is but a flesh-hued toy; Some have their ending in a life of shame;

John went into the garden one day And found his baby sister at play; John hit baby with a brick

Maud Muller on a summer's day, Raked the meadows, sweet with hay. Nor was this just a grand-stand play;

(By A. Turkey Gobbler.) I'm just a turkey gobbler, But I've got a word to say

A cat duet. A silhouette. A high brick wall,

There was once an eccentric old coon, Who ate dynamite with a spoon, But when he got loaded

A maddened horse comes down the street, With waving mane and flying feet. The crowd scatters in every direction;

I knew a young man so conceited That a glance at his face made you heated. One night, playing whist,

(Mrs. Jefferson Davis, widow of the President of the Southern Confederacy died October 16, 1906.) Oh weep fair South, and bow thy head For one is gone beyond recall!

'Tis Saturday morn and all is bright By nature's own endowing; The sun is fiercely giving light,

Sprig, Sprig--Oh lovely Sprig! Oh, hast thou cub to stay? Add wilt the little birdies sig

There once was an old crocodile Who lived on the banks of the Nile. One day, for a meal,

Take up the household burden, No iron rule of kings, But make your family understand

A seedy young man in Savanah Fell in love with a rich girl named Anna, But her papa got mad

With a clatter and a jangle, And a wrangle and a screech, How the old alarm clock wheezes

O, the circus parade! O, the circus parade! It lays all the politics back in the shade, And the merchants forget that they've got any trade,

Oh, let's go out to the county fair And breathe the balmy country air, And whittle a stick and look at the hosses,

Why that's a doodle bug, my child Who lives alone, remote and wild. His domicile's a hole in the ground

(Man's Inhumanity to Hogs Makes Countless Thousands Squeal.) I lived upon a little farm, A happy hog was I,

Have you ever mused in silence upon a summer's day And let your thoughts run riot and your feelings have full sway, As you sprawled full length upon the grass in some secluded dell

Ah, somewhere in another world There is a warmer spot, Where the fire is burning always.

Lobsters haven't any feet, But they have lots of claws; Yet lobster meat is good to eat,

Good people if you have the mumps, Or ever get down with the dumps; Or have bad cold or aching pains,

What a difference in the morning When you try to raise your head; When your eyelids seem so heavy

(Written in collaboration with R. B. Hamilton.) When Julius Caesar met his death, He muttered in his dying breath:

Wake for the sun, that scatters into flight, The poker players who have stayed all night; Drives husbands home with reeling steps, and then--

O a fat turkey gobbler once sat on a limb And he sighed at the wind, and the wind sighed at him. But the grief of the gobbler one could not diminish,

Beware the Sissy Boy my child, Not because he's very wild; The Sissy Boy is never that,

Far back within an age remote, Which common history fails to note, When dogs could talk, and pigs could sing,

To sit and dream in a shady nook While the phantom clouds roll by; To con some long-remembered book

May the day that gave Christ birth Bring you boundless joy and mirth, Fill the golden hours with gladness,

In days gone by, the poets wrote Sweet verses to the ladies fair; Described the nightingale's clear note,

I never saw a purple cow, You say you never saw one; But this I'll tell you anyhow,

You lived in a land horror-haunted, And wrote with a pen half-divine; You drank bitter sorrow, undaunted

What is transcendentalism? Merely sentimentalism With a dash of egotism

A young girl stands Upon the sands, And waves her hands--

They were seated there in silence Each one busy with a frown, It was midnight in the city,

In days gone by, when cows could fly And goblins rode on bears; When fairies danced upon the green

There was a girl in our town Who dearly loved to flirt, But the home folks never noticed it at all.