The Anaconda Standard – Jan 1, 1911
— Happy New Year from Montana —
ON NEW YEAR’S EVE.
There sinks the last December sun,
(The prospect from this window’s cheerful!)
And new days come, rose hued or dun,
As Fate ordains, another’s yearful.
Who’d spare the old year’s hoary locks?
Not Davy, by his namesake’s lockers!
To-morrow he steps out of frocks
And into knickerbockers.
And now the moon above us fares,
(The prospect from this window’s charming!)
Old moon, old year! My own gray hairs
Are coming at a rate alarming.
But who would have the minutes stay?
Not I! I like the present phasis!
To-morrow puts my starveling pay
Upon a higher basis.
Eleven strikes. I’m half asleep!
(My stars! this window-seat is chilly!)
The vigil I set out to keep
Seems, after all, a trifle silly.
Who bids Time “Halt?” It’s Immogene’s
Sad voice that mourns the fa? niente.
Of fleeting, tranquil, care-free teens —
To-morrow she’ll be twenty!
Edward W. Barnard.
Eau Claire Leader (Eau Claire, Wisconsin) Jan 1, 1911
Oakland Tribune – Jan 1, 1911
— A rather odd way to illustrate “Out with the old, In with the new” from Oakland, California —
Syracuse Herald – Jan 1, 1911
— Something “gay” and “classy,” although not very creative from New York —
The Water Wagon
By N.P. Babcock
There’s a weil of creaky bellows,
And the wheeze is nation-wide;
They are patching up “The Wagon”
For the famous New Year ride.
The steps have been made lower
And convenient to the feet;
There is room for you and me, sir,
And for each of us a seat.
You will find the old bus waiting,
On the stroke of New Year’s Day,
At the gilded lobster palace
And the Bowery cafe.
The driver’s face is covered,
So we fail to catch the grin
With which he greets each person
Who, unsteadily climbs in.
He’s a philosophic fellow,
Long accustomed to his job,
And he knows that “Resolution”
Isn’t strengthened with a sob.
There’s nothing of the “softy”
In his handling of the reins;
He is barren of compassion
For your nerves or other peins.
“Giddap!” he sternly thunders,
As the wheels begin to creak;
And the first day on that wagon
Is, to all intents a week.
The driver hits the rutty spots
I think I hear him say:
“Those fellows with the weak backbones
Would fall off anyway.”
And fall they do by dozens,
As the wagon jogs its way
Through streets where jeering reprobates
Place beer kegs in the way.
You talk of bucking bronchoe
And of hurdle racers fleet?
Immutable are they compared
to that old wagon’s seat.
There’s but one way to stick there
(Or so I have been told) —
Recall the swampy roadway
That afoot you trod of old.
For ’tis better to make progress
As a Water Wagon fare
Than stand on “independent” feet
And not get anywhere.
Colorado Springs Gazette (Colorado Springs, Colorado) Jan 1, 1911
And finally something for the reality seekers! This was part of an advertisement that was running in several of the newspapers on January 1, 1911.