Thrills of a Bell Boy — Background and Themes

me the luck, they’ve made it up again.

IF I could have my choice I wouldn’t be The main guy of a kingdom—nix fer me. I’d only wish that I could be as great As one of these gay boys from up the State Imagines that we think he is when he Tilts back his hat and lights his cigarette And does the pouter-pigeon act; I’d let Them have their thrones if I could be as grand As these boys think they are when they “run down” On business trips and let their chests expand And act as though they’d come to buy the town.

The minute one of them gets in he shies Around the telegraph girl, makin’ eyes And wantin’ to know what it costs to send Ten words to Saugatuck or Brady’s Bend, Or dictates to the shorthand girl and tries To make her think he’s Mike from Up-the-Crick— It’s easy work to spot these Johnnies quick: They try to mash the chambermaids up-stairs, And buzz the news-stand lady, and I s’pose They think that we all think they’re millionaires— Hello! There that sweet little actress goes.

I WENT to see the show last night, the one She’s playing in, you know, but all the fun I thought I’d have was spoiled, confound the luck, I bought a forty-cent bouquet to chuck Down at her when the second act was done. I got a seat in front, all right, and, oh! How grand she looked away down there below! I thought of angels every time she’d look Up at the gallery—but when I let My flowers tumble down the villain took And give them to the putty-faced soubrette!

I wish I was the hero of the play She’s actin’ in and had the chance to lay Her head agin my buzzom every night And knock the villain down and hold her tight— I wouldn’t ask to have a cent of pay. And when she’d look up at me sweet and proud I’d feel so glad I’d have to yell out loud: I’ll bet the knock I give the villain when I come to rescue her would make him grunt. And when she wound her arms around me, then— Oh, blame it, there’s Old Morton howlin’ “Front!”

I DON’T feel like I used to feel no more; It seems as though I’d like to go away From where the racket’s goin’ on all day, And have her with me there, and she’d be sore At that rich dude who meets her at the door Back by the stage when she’s got through the play: I wish that she’d get sweet on me and say She never knew what lovin’ was before.

I’ve got a tooth-brush now, and every night I wash my neck and ears: I don’t intend To chew tobacco any more, nor spend My change fer cigarettes; her teeth are white, And if she seen that mine were, too, she might Be liable to love me. Every time She looks at me it kind of seems that I’m All full of something tickel-ish and light.

I’d like it if I knew some way to make My ears stay closer to my head and not Stick out the way they do, as though they’d got Unfastened and hung loose. I wish I’d wake To-morrow so good-lookin’ it would break Her heart unless I’d take her on the spot; And I could lick that dude if he got hot And made rough house when she’d give him the shake.

If I could go away with her to where There wasn’t anybody else at all, And we could set around all day or loll Beside the cricks and never have to care When bells would ring, and all around us there The posies would be growin’ sweet and tall, I’d never mind if it was spring or fall— But still I s’pose she couldn’t live on air.

I THINK I’ll chuck this job and go and try To be a supe with her, and by and by Get speakin’ parts to play, and then—who knows?— Be leadin’ man, at last, and wear dude clo’s. I’d drink champagne whenever I was dry, And have a chance to travel up and down Around the country, seein’ every town, And after every act they’d call fer me; All week I’d only work two afternoons, And nearly everywhere I went I’d see My picture in the windows of saloons.