33 Poems from the Firby family circa 1903.

The Night we Were All Alone

One night when all us children
Were sitting round the fire,
Papa said: I must go away,
You must bid goodbye to your sire.

I must go away to the wooly west".
As he spoke, there fell a tear.
"Now children, I know I can trust you -
You'll be all alone, I fear".

And so he went, amid sighs and tears
And many a stifled groan,
And never shall I forget that night -
The night we were left alone.

That night, after all the children
Were sound asleep in bed,
I crawled into bed myself,
And pulled the bedclothes over my head.

Of course I knew that the door was locked,
With a knife and a stick of wood,
And I'd carried the axe to my bedside;
But still, if a burglar should!!!!!!!!!

ALL ALONE

Not a sound was heard as we locked the door
And the axes upstairs we carried -
Not a Firby discharged a farewell tear;
But they one and all looked worried.

Hugh woke up frightened at dead of night,
And from left to right kept squirming,
He saw the struggling moonbeams light
And the lantern dimly burning.

No useless bedclothes enclosed his breast -
Not a sheet nor a quilt around him;
But he lay like a frightened cat taking his rest,
When he knows that the enemy's found him.

Few and short were poor Jassie's dreams,
And she breathed not a word of sorrow;
But she thought of her Pa in the wild wooly west,
And she joyfully thought of the morrow.

She thought as she kissed Russell's fat, smooth cheek,
And smoothed down the soft, white pillow,
How gladly she'd welcome Pa home again,
From the weary train and the billow

But half of the weary night had passed,
When the clock struck the hour of one,
And Jessie imagined she heard a slight noise.
A burglar had thoughtfully come!!!

Continued next page. (Could not find next page. Ed.)

Olive

Ballad - entitled "Vacation Days at Edmonton" or "At Rest at Olive's"

In the happy holidays,
Floss and Ethel came
All the way from Winnipeg.
Riding on the train.
Ethel fair and Flossie frail (Notice alliteration)
Welcome to our City:
My! you girls do need a rest -
Isn't it a pity?
Look at little Bubbins here -
Isn't she a winner?
Must weigh thirty pounds by now
Or I'm a living sinner.
Talk about the times we had,
Talk of this and that.
Oft the rude remark was passad
"My, you're getting fat".
Going to the Empire Show
Also to the Pan.
See our little Stock Players
At the Ly-ce-am".
Oh! that drive to Cooking Lake,
That was simply great!
I could hardly keep my seat
We went at such a rate.
Ethel, feeling pale and sad,
For the first few days.
What can be the matter, dear,
Your head you cannot raise.
Hope that you will not be sick,
What can be the matter?
"The air here is too thin," she said,
Would that it were fatter".
Flossie writing letters
On the porch all morn,
Says that Harvey's lonesomeness,
It hardly can be borne.
Flossie buying linens
Also pillow shams.
Little far-off echoes
Of the wedding banes.
"Mind ye - it's a thief's gift
That I'm sellin' you"!
Still - she got a bargain.
I guess those words were true.
Think of Mrs. Cloutier
And Fred - the little brute,
And how his constant cry was:
"Mom - can I have fruit?"
Think of little Henry
Admiring Ethel's hair.
"Guess it must be bleached", he said -
"How can it be so fair"?
Think of little Freida
At the pin-a-nic
"You can't go swimming. Walter.
I fear 'twill make you sick.
And Walter dear, now really,
You must not play at ball -
Just sit here on the grass by me
You cunning little doll".

And here and there on the telegraph wires
The birds sit in neat rows,
They're not afraid of the great "iron horse",
Except when the whistle blows.

And a sunset on the prairie
At the end of a perfect day,
All red and blue and green and
gold Almost takes one's breath away.

Fellow travellers too, intrigue -
It's fun to meet new faces.
And listen to the tales they tell
Of distant, far off places.

An Oriental Potentate,
A maiden from Peru.
A questing Archaeologist,
Or a man from Timbuctoo.

A dashing Prince from India,
A Toreador from Spain,
You might meet anyone of these
When travelling on a train.

The meals in the diner are marvelous,
So wholesome and nutritous.
Everything from soup to nuts,
The menus are delicious.

And when it is time to call it a day
And seek a good night's rest,
You won't have a worry in the world,
The berths are of the best.

Mattresses made of foam rubber,
Pillows light as down,
They couldn't be softer if they'd been made
For a head that wears a crown.

The Porters are most courteous,
They always aim to please,
And nothing is too much trouble
To make one feel at ease.

So it isn't any wonder
I prefer the C.N.R.
Besides I have to go that way,
I don't possess a car.

It's so fascinating travelling,
And I'd go again and again.
There are so many worthwhile things to see,
From the windows of a train.

Dear Flo:

So if you receive a poem like that
Now please don't get excited.
You'll know it's the rambling of a simple mind,
By the way that it is cited.

(Signed)
Hugh E. Firby.

Far into the night when Flo and Cliff
Were fast asleep in bed;
Hugh sat at the kitchen table
Pond'ring and scratching his head.
Trying to think of subjects
To compose a poem or two.
He thought of any number of things;
But none of them would do.

Flossie had set the table
With the very best silverware -
And she set it in the kitchen.
Said she: "The boys won't care".
She set it all quite daintily,
With sugar, pepper and salt
And milk and "Force" and butter
And vinegar, made from malt -

And buns that Mrs. Freeman made
Who lives in the suite next door;
And pie with a crust you couldn't break
If you threw it at the door.
It's getting late and I am tired
Of writing all this rot,
So I guess the best thing I can do,
Is to seek my humble cot.
For in the morning I must go
To the C.N. shops and moil
Working all day in the mire and dirt
In a never-ending toil.

Clifford needed bread to eat
On Saturday at dinner time.
Said he to Hugh: "If you'll get me bread
To you I'll give a dime".
But Hugh - a man to every inch
Declined his brother's dime.
He went and got the bread for him.
To refuse would have been a crime.

My Holiday

My first stop will be Edmonton,
To see the family there.
It's always good to see them,
And there is always a welcome chair.

Then out West to Vancouver
Brother Cliff to greet,
At least I hope to see him
If we can arrange to meet.

Then over to Victoria
Where Jessie makes her home.
I wanted her to come with me,
But she doesn't like to roam.

Then South to Sacramento,
To say "Hello" to Russ.
He's not the smallest any more
Though the youngest one of us.

From there to Pasadena,
To visit Jean and Hugh.
I never thought I'd get that far,
Now it seems the thing to do.

My next stop is El Paso,
Though I know nobody there,
But I have to take that route you see,
Or else pay Railroad fare.

Then on to Dallas- Texas,
And a change of trains once more,
But Buttercup and Del live there
So that won't be a chore.

Then to Tulsa, Oklahoma
Eth and Charlie for to see.
I don't suppose I'll find them changed,
And I'm sure that they'll know me.

My next stop will be old St Paul,
To say "Hello" to Jim.
It's years and years and years and years
Since I said "Hello" to him.

So sing a song of holidays
I'll soon be on my way,
And I hope we'll all remain good friends
By the time I end my stay.

Floss

And lanky Frances Phalen
Who came with Liz that day -
And Lizzie spoke to Ethel
In a confidential way,
And said: "Now Ethel, tell me
I'm curious, you see -
Does the baby's father like her?
How does it seem to thee?"
And Ethel answered, "Lizzie -
You're impertinent you know
I cannot like you, Lizzie-
I wish that you would go;
But since you've asked the question
I will be frank with you.
The baby's father worships her,
He would go black and blue
He would go pink and purple -
He would go nearly wild,
If anything should happen
To harm our precious child".
Flossie, making boudoir caps
To wear upon the train -
Looking fascinating
When going home again.
Vacation days are over, girls,
And we must pack our grip
And say goodbye to Edmonton -
Start on our homeward trip.
Goodbye, you cute green bungalow,
Goodbye, you hammock dear -
You've been a friend, time without and
I'll rest in you next year.
And next year at Los Angeles,
We all will meet once more,
And Bubbins will be older then
And walking on the floor.
We'll all be girls together -
Together- don't you see?
But till that time, just take your pen
And write me letters now and then,
Tell me you love me once again
As much as I love thee.

Epitaph

Here lies 0. Firby, now gone to rust.
Her emaciated form is now a heap of dust.
She wishes her friends not to weep and wail
Becausa she has gone stale.
For wisdom ever walked her way.
She knew that all must die some day.

Olive

A Child's View of Retirement In an Adult Mobile Park

After a Christmas break, the teacher asked her small pupils how they spent their holidays. One small boy's reply went like this:
We always spent Christmas with Grandpa and Grandma. They used to live here in a big brick house, but Grandpa got retarded and they moved to Arizona. They live in a place with a lot of retarded people. They live in tin huts. They ride three- wheel tricycles. They go to a big building they call a wrecked hall. But if it was wrecked, it was fixed now. They play games there and do exercises, but they don't do them very well. There is a swimming pool and they go to it and just stand there in the water with their hats on I guess they don't know how to swim. My Grandma used to bake cookies and stuff, but I guess she forgot how. Nobody cooks there; they all go to fast food restaurants. As you come into the park there, there is a doll house with a man sitting in it. He watches all day so they can't get out without him seeing them. They wear badges with their names on them. I guess they don't know who they are. My Grandma said Grandpa worked hard all his life and earned his retardment. I wish they would move back home, but I guess the man in the doll house won't let them out.

-- Submitted by Ron Dolan

WOMAN

She's an angel in truth, a demon in fiction -
A woman's the greatest of all contradiction:
She's afraid of a cockroach, she'll scream at a mouse,
But she'll tackle a husband as big as a house.
She'll take him for better, she'll take him for worse,
She'll split his head open and then be his nurse.
And when he is well and can get out of bed,
She'll pick up a teapot and throw at his head.
She's faithful, deceitful, keen sighted and blind:
She's crafty, she's simple, she's cruel, she's kind.
She'll lift a man up, she'll cast a man down,
She'll make him her hero, her ruler, her clown,
You'll fancy she's this but you'll find that she's that.
For she'll play like a kitten and fight like a cat.
In the morning she will, in the evening she won't.
You're always expecting she will but she won't.

Unknown

Said Garnet Firby to himself:
"I'm tired of cutting wood
I think I need a little rest,
The change would do me good."

So throwing down his keen edged axe
He ran him off to play,
With little Samuel Davidson
Upon that lovely day.

Said Jessie Firby to herself:
"Perchance I need some wood,
Now Clifford, run and get me some,
As thou art sweet and good".

Soon little Clifford did return.
He wailed a dismal wail.
He brought his news No stick of wood
Did in that shed prevail.

Then said sweet little Jessie F.
A brave and worthy girl.
Said she: "Until I find that bay
My hair I will not curl".

Then for three hours, as I suppose,
Did she thus work and toil
And nobody would have then supposed,
That she was a Princess Royal.

Then she did say unto herself:
"I'm tired of cutting wood -
I think I need a little rest,
The change would do me good"

That night when Garnet reached his home,
He met his Father there.
Who took him for a little space
With him, up the back stair.

The strap went Swish - poor Garnet screamed -
Back ran the children all,
And everyone cried out, "Well done"
As loud as he could bawl.

Dirge of the Firby Family Club

Yes, you're gone, dear Father Firby, they have sent you far away,
    And we weep because you thought you ought to go;
But we feel as proud as Adam must have felt before the fall,
    And in gentle tones we praise you soft and low.

Yes, you're gone, dear Father Firby, and we miss you all the time.
    We miss you more than ever you can know -
Yet, We'll school ourselves to patience till you can come home again,
    But we're sad because we ever let you go.

Olive

Arnold, Man.

Oh, waft me away to Arnold
Where cooling breezes blow.
I'll tell you my reasons for going there -
That is, if you want to know.

For there they live on roast beef,
And puddings and pork pie,
And sausages and brandy sauce.
I wonder they don't die.

And there they have stuffed apples
And stewing meat and cake -
And roly-poly puddings, such as
Arnold cooks can make.

There too, they have potatoes
And lots of pork and beans,
With luxuries like that, I fear
They live beyond their means.

And oyster soup and chicken broth,
And taffy on a stick,
And hazel nuts and ginger snaps -
You'd think they would get sick.

Yes, I'd rather go to Arnold,
Than sail across the foam;
But when I saw the pillows,
I think 'twould drive me home.

Yes, I'd rather go to Arnold,
Than sail across the billows;
But seems to me I'd take along
A few, nice, fat, clean pillows.

Olive

She trieth to use great large words
She doth not understand.
She doth not help her sisters
With gentle, loving hand.

And every night before she rests,
She braideth up her hair,
And rubbeth cream upon her face
To make it look more fair.

But still she often doth good,
As little girls should do,
Therefore, with all her little faults,
I think such girls are few.

Olive

Sis sat in the parlor, dressed up swell,
Waiting for Herbert to ring the bell.
It was afternoon, I forgot to say -
About four, on a beautiful Sabbath day.
The doorbell rarg with a mighty clang
And unto the door, our Jessie sprang.
She said "You're welcome" and closed the door.
"Well roally, I'd like to see you more"
She noticed the sea-green suit he wore,
In his buttonhole, feather flowers galore.
She would like to have wrenched them out, but forbore,
And he followed her into the parlor.

He sat on a chair by the sitting-room table.
Jess stood by his side, and when she was able,
She crossed to the sofa and sat her down,
And gossiped about the news of the town.
And really, my dears,
They'd have sat there for years,
If "Tea's ready" hadn't fallen shrill on their ears,
The conversation suddenly ceased
And Herbert and Jessie came in to the feast,
And he followed her out of the parlor.

Olive 1903

Hugh

There was once a little boy
Who often did annoy
His sisters, by swelling into some odd shape.
First he took the hives in the sweet, sweet spring,
And he sat and he swelled like anything.
And he murmured: "If I persevere I'll look like Sammy Ling
Because the days are warm.

The winter time came by,
And said Hugh: "It's time that I
Was swel'ing into quite a different shape. I'm told
That a very swall discase,
That never fails to please,
Is the Mumps, so I'll have these -
Because the days are cold.

Olive

JESSIE:

Oh, my big sister, Jessie
She moves about the house,
With smiling face and noiseless tread,
As quiet as a mouse.

The little children love her
And hasten to her side,
To tell her all their troubles
In the quiet eventide.

She singeth in the village choir
And all the people hear,
The echoes of that clear, pure voice,
Which is to them so dear.

She goeth out and round about,
And always is the same.
Oh! would there were more girls like her,
Born on the Village plain.

Olive

OLIVE

Oh, Olive is the spitfire,
She never doeth good,
She lazy is from morn till night,
She dath not earn her food.

She doth not tidy up her room,
Nor wash the dishes up.
She never doeth anything,
But sleep and drink and sup.

And thus you see, good people all
Her fame doth spread abroad,
And verily doth Olive
Very often get the rod.

But still it doeth her no good,
It doth not make her sweet.
She goeth still about the house,
With slow and slothful feet.

Handwritten Side Note
This is not true of Olive She was just the peacemaker of the family and was wonderful.

FLOSSIE

Oh Flossie is the next in size,
And very vain is she.
She looketh in the mirror oft,
To see what she can see.

>Our Pa

There's a tall, broad-shouldered man
Which is Pa.
Get's all the buttermilk he can
Don't yer, Pa?
If it's fresh, or stale with hairs,
He could drink for twenty years,
With a smile round both his ears.
Can't yer, Pa?

What of milk he doesn't know,
Our Pa.
You could write it on your toe,
Can't yer, Pa?
You can bet your life he's wise,
He's a terror for his size.
He's the man with the blue eyes.
Our Pa

If you stood him on his neck,
Our Pa.
You could pour of milk, a peck.
Outer Pa.
He says: "Buttermilk's the stuff
That will make a fellow tough,"
Never knows when he's had enough,
Do yer Pa?

The Accident

One night our darling father
Came home and went to bed.
He had a cut on his forehead
And another on his head.

He went him to the Doctor,
To have his wounds dressed too,
The Doctor said: Good gracious
It might have kill-ed you.

A ladder fell upon him
As he lay gasping there;
With bloodstains on his forehead,
And bloodstains on his hair.

The Doctor bandaged him all up
And sought to ease his pain,
And I'm glad to say, within a week
He was OK again.

Papa's Ride

Said Mr. Firby to himself,
"It is a lovely day,
So I will hie me off to home
On velocipede so gay".

Then o'er his vest that he might be
Equipped from top to toe,
His short, black coat, well brushed and neat -
He manfully did throw.

The red velocipede was brought;
But yet was not allowed
To come up to the door, lest all
Should say that he was proud.

So at the bridge the thing was stayed
Where Papa did get in.
On that machine he felt that he
Could ride through thick and thin.

He'd riding been a little while,
When lo, it gave a hitch,
And Papa found on looking round,
That he was in the ditch.

Now let us sing, "Long live the King"
and Papa Long live he;
But when he next doth ride abroad,
May I be there to see.

Papa's Bicycle Ride

When riding cautiously along
He suddenty espied
A hollow in the even road.
"I'll coast down that" he cried,
But he fell

And people say that on that day
A yell that raised their hair
Did break upon the silent night
And seemed to rend the air.
When he fell

An old man passing, saw the fall
And helped him to get fixed
For legs and arms and bicycle
Had become strangely mixed
When he fell.

He solemnly came home that night
And put the wheel away.
And solemnly he looked at it
And solemnly did say:

"That wheel it shall not conquer me"
    So Mr. Firby said;
"But I feel rather sore and ill
    I think I'll go to bed
As for that darned old bicycle -
    It can stay there", he said..
        "It made me fall".

Slowly and sadly she crept out of bed,
In the cold room, at two in the morning.
She softly sped into Garnet's room.
He had caused all the noise by snoring.

Slowly and sadly she crept back to bed.
All covered with fright and glory.
She pulled the bedclothes up over her head
And resolved to tell no one the story.

Election Time at our House

What is the matter with dear Papa
The people are asking me.
He looks so pale and worn and sad,
Whatever can it be?
His prancing step that I used to love,
Has changed to a sleepy walk,
And his conversation bright and gay,
Has become this kind of talk:

"Oh, won't you give me your vote, I pray"?
And his voice has a nervous ring.
"Do sign your name to this paper -
You see, I'm canvassing".

I know I should not grumble,
Even when he comes home late,
For of course his mind's preoccupied,
With matters of the State;
But people stop me on the street
And this is what they say:
"What is the matter with your Papa
He looks rather pale today".

Upon the coming election
He's so intent you see,
That he has no time of course you know
To do anything for me.
And when I say: "Please Papa
Split a little wood for me".
He runs his fingers through his hair
And murmurs abstractedly:

"Oh, won't you give me your vote, I pray"
And his voice has a nervous ring -
"Do sign your name to this paper,
You see I'm canvassing".

Blue-Ribbon Tea

One night I was feeling rather blue.
My wife said: "What is the matter with you,
Downhearted dear? Well! Well!, said she.
"What you need is a cup of Blue Ribbon Tea".
    Blue-ribbon Tea
    Blue-ribbon Tea.
All ye good people, come listen to me.
It's merits I've tasted, and proved it to be
The best and the cheapest - just try it and see.

Olive

Sing a song of holidays.
I'm leaving Winnipeg
Early in the New Year
That's when Ill "Shake a leg."

I'm travelling via C.N.R. -
That Super Railway line.
It's the nicest of all Railroads
At least I think it's fine.

And one reason why I think so
Is very plain to see,
It realy is quite simple
They let me ride FOR FREE.

But that's not the only reason
I prefer the C.N style
As I'll tell you in a few short words
If you'll bear with me awhile.

It's very easy to relax
In a comfy Pullman chair,
And let the train do all the work,
It will take you anywhere.

From the large picture windows
There's an uninterupted view;
And it never gets monotonous
For there is always something new.

It's pleasant just to sit and watch
The landscape flashing by,
Hills and rocks and lakes and woods
and wide expanse of sky.

And here and there a farmhouse
Dotting the rolling plain,
With fine machinery - well kept stock
And fields of waving grain.

Sometimes there are children
Picking wild flowers by the road,
Or a farmer on his way to town
Trucking a heavy load.

Sometimes we catch a fleeting glimpse
Of wildlife having fun,
A cute bear cuba startled deer,
Or a rabbit on the run.

And sometimes from a shady pool
Wild geese will rise in flight,
And we catch a glimpse of their whirring wings
Before they are lost to sight.

Study

Study, study, study!
Study from morning till night.
Study, study, study!
And never an answer right.
My eyes are heavy and dull -
My brain it seems aflame,
Working examples in Algebra
Over and Over again.

I cannot rest, I cannot sleep,
Working from morning till night.
Arithmetic - History - Algebra,
And never an answer right.
I know the rest of the pupils,
They think I am not bright.
If they only knew how tired I grew
Trying to get them right

Examinations will soon be here
I'll be in a dreadful plight.
I don't suppose they'll let me pass
With never an answer right.
I prop my eyes open with matches;
But it does no good you see.
I can't do one deduction
In my Geom-e-tree.

After examinations,
I'll throw my books away,
And all through jolly holiday time
I'll play and play and play.
I'm tired of always burning
The midnight oil each night.
Trying in vain to study.
And never an answer right.

The Map

A girl did draw
Without a flaw,
Without a spot or blot,
A map.
Said she:
"I've done it beautifully".
Said she: "I think
This clear black ink
Is swell.
I've done it well.
I will convey
My map away
Unto the show,
Where well I know
I'll get the prize".
The girl was wise,
She took her map
With many a loving tap
Unto the fair.
When she got there
She said:
"I'll wait
And learn my fate".
But this the man would not allow.
So with a bow,
She left,
Bereft
Of her dear map.
Three days after that,
With a proud prance
And many a joyous glance,
She went to see
Her map "Oh Gee!"
Said she.
How mean they've been.
Where is my prize?"
The tears came to her eyes.
Tears of a goodly size,
And many mournful sighs.
"Oh, my - I'll die"
She sobbed
They've robbed m
e Of my prize.
But never fear,
Next year,
You'll see,
Success will follow me

Olive

Just Wait You are old Father Willian
    Lester Pearson exclaimed
And your hair has become
    very white,
Yet most of your age group
    are asking a raise.
Do you think at your age it
    is right?
In my youth Father William
    replied with a sigh
I never became an MP,
So the wonderful benefits
    and pensions galore
Were never donated to me.
But listen said Lester, gently
    rubbing his chin,
A raise in your pension will
    come,
And you'll find you have
    doubled your 65 bucks,
If you live to 101.

(Mrs.) A. G. EDWARDS,
5751 Wallace Drive.

The Study Period.

It is the study period -
The worst in all the day.
The birds have ceased their music,
The clouds are cold and grey.

And I think as I sit here,
Of the happy days gone by,
When I, a merry, happy child,
Did used to scream and cry.

And now a heartless wretch am I;
But merry still, withal.
I came no more for Algebra -
I rather would play ball.

I rather would sit down and read -
Or wander to and fro
Where all the pretty floweretts
And the tinkling grasses grow.

My thoughts fly back as I sit here
Unto that happy time,
When I, a merry, happy child,
Did ne'er take thought of time.

I played with my dear sister,
And often did we fight;
But still we all lived happily,
And soundly slept at night.

That sister now is bending -
Well do I see her face.
It wearith oft a haughty glance;
But still is full of grace.

She as I said, is bending
Over the carriage worn,
Wherein there lies an infant,
With raiment soiled and torn.

And face so browned and sunburned
And hands with dimples pricked,
And lips like two red, living coals -
And feet that often kicked.

Oh, sadly do I say it,
And yet, 'tis true, I know.
Those feet do kick his sister
Wherever she may go.

But Jessie's very patient,
Oh well do I know that.
She'd patient be with Russell
If he on her beat hat sat.

Yes, it's the study period,
That's why I'm writing this;
But if I saw that infant now,
I'd be right full of bliss.

Instead, I see old Mr. Saul,
Who's sitting on a chair
Doth look around this sultry room
And stare, and stare and stare.

Instead, I see old Mr. Saul
With face so long and lean,
It looks from here for all the world,
Like a large cooking bean.

I really think I'm hungry
I know I shouldn't be;
But I would give a quarter
For a cup of good strong tea.

The Algebra before me
Lies open on the desk.
I hope I am not lazy;
But I think I need a rest.

I need a rest from Ella's tongue
And Jessie Sherman's too,
And there is Laura speaking -
What can a body do?

Ah! there! the half-bell's gone at last.
Now soon the time will pass,
And then Risa Stuart will waddle in
And will dismiss the class.

These lines express my feelings
Upon this sultry day.
When I am kept in this hot room -
I'd rather go and play.

I'd go and play with Flossie -
That happy little elf.
I think if I could play with her
I would enjoy myself.

Olive