50 THE FOGY DAYS AND NOW; 



There was not a railroad in the land, 

 Never a steamer plowed the sea, 



Telegraph, telephone, all unknown, 

 Nor dreamed of in all eternity. 



Washing and ehnrning done by hand, 

 Pine torch or candles gave us light, 



Nor stove, nor range to cook our food, 

 Swinging pot-rack was our delight. 



No thought of a sewing machine. 

 Nor phonograph nor velocipede, 



We had hearn tell of the elephant, 

 In fact one of them we had seed. 



Then the printing press was very crude, 

 And pictures they w^ere powerful scace ; 



Were way behind in all these things, 

 But we were a mighty happy race. 



Before diskivery of coal and ile. 



We still wonder at the electric light ; 



Now the street car, dummies they surprise, 

 Reckon we was sorter in the night. 



What comes next? We may learn to fly. 

 And gold will be made out of clay, 



Everybody will become so rich 

 Will be nothing to do but play. 



And then what next is hard to tell. 

 May be that the girls will sprout wings. 



Already they seem to fly around, 

 And do some mighty funny things. 



A word about the ladies of the day, 

 One thing doth most sensibly impress, 



Their skirts have got the natural shape, 

 Resemble our old mother's dress. 



