1886-06-12 Toronto-Hamilton Baseball

The ongoing rivalry between Toronto and Hamilton became particularly pronounced when sports teams from each city were scheduled to face each other.

Such was the case in June 1886 when two professional baseball teams, representing each city met in Toronto, on Saturday June 12, 1886. Toronto and Hamilton were members of the eight team International League – other six teams representing the following communities in New York State; Syracuse, Rochester, Utica, Buffalo, Binghamton and Oswego.

It was the fourth meeting of the season between the Hamiltons and the Torontos (as they were called). Hamilton had won two of the first three. In the same way that Hamilton had outclassed on the diamond, so too did it far outdistance Toronto as regards the manner the game was described in the newspapers of the respective cities.

The Toronto Globe had a relatively brief account of the game, while the Hamilton Spectator’s coverage was not only much more lengthy, it also contained a lot of color and humour.

The Toronto Baseball grounds were near the Don Valley and some distance from the Grand Trunk Railway station, the train being the means by which a contingent of 350 ‘baseball cranks’ from Hamilton would use to support their team.

When the game started, the Hamilton fans had yet to get to the grounds, although the Spectator reporter was there, and he opened his coverage of the game with a description of the Torontos baseball facility :

 “The Toronto grounds are easy of access. The conveniences are all here, and everything is on an elaborate scale. The grandstand is very large; but on this occasion, there is little space room. The field is broad and level. The north sod, upon which play is made is sodded, and is still a little rough, but will be a magnificent ball ground in time. The south end is unfinished, and has a rubbish shot here appearance. It will be levelled and sodded when the batters get strong enough to make it useful.”¹

¹ “The World of Sport : The Game at Toronto”

Hamilton Spectator.   June 14, 1886.

The umpire, and there was only one, was a man whose assertiveness and manner of calling a game drew special attention from the Spectator reporter:

“The umpire is Hoover. He is small and is apparently principally composed of lungs. His pronunciation has been sadly neglected; but the audience soon learn that ‘wah boo’ means one ball, and ‘stk taw’ is intended for two strikes. He is a working umpire, too, and is always where he is wanted. His judgment on balls and strikes is perfect, and his whole work is sharp, decisive and satisfactory. He is a vast improvement on all umpires that have been here before this season”¹

The teams traded runs in the first inning and at the end of that inning, the Spec man noted that “the telegraph machine rattles away as it tells the waiting world that the game stands one to one.”¹

As the second inning began, the crowd of about 2500 Toronto fans was augmented by the arrival of the Hamiltonians:

“The Hamilton delegation – 350 strong – arrive just in time to see the Hamiltons make a blinder, and they find seats silently and somewhat sadly. The Torontos make a run – one of the bitter fruits of error, and the Toronto cheer is heard away back in the southern counties of the field.”¹

The score stood at 1-1 when the Hamiltons came to bat at the top of the third, and that half inning was when all the significant action of the game took place and the Spectator man covered it in detail:

“Now comes the fun. Obliging Mr. Smith, the gentlemanly third baseman of the Torontos fumbles a ball, and lets Rev. Mr. Rainey get his first. Artistic Mr. Kellogg takes a bat and poses. The umpire says things which, being interpreted, signify that Mr. Veach, the able and accomplished Toronto pitcher is pitching one, two, three, four, five bad balls. It is Mr. Kellogg’s desire that Mr. Veach shall pitch another of the same; but Mr. Veach sends one over the plate. Kellogg calmly adjusts his bat so that a foul tip shall result. It results. The Toronto audience laughs.

“Veach sends another over the plate. Again, the adjustment, and again the foul tip. And again the laughter – only louder. Again the ball over the plate, and again the foul tip. ; and the laughter is very loud.

“The fourth ball comes. Another artistic foul tip. The audience is silent. They think its gets monotonous. Another foul tip and the audience loses patience and shouts ‘Play ball,’ ‘no monkeying,’ and things like that.

“The sixth foul tip ensues. Kellogg is calm, smiling, confident. Veach looks warm, worried, wrathy. The audience hisses.

“The seventh ball comes squarely over the plate. But the foul tip spoils the strike. The audience shrieks wrathful things, and the hissing is tremendous.

“Another ball comes over the plate. Kellogg puts his bat in tipping position, but the ball misses it, and the little umpire tears his throat as he yells his peculiar synonym for ‘strike.’ The audience bursts into a prolonged and vigorous cheer, and artistic Mr. Kellogg is derided. But he remains cool, and the next ball being over the plate, he gracefully executes his eighth foul tip. And he immediately follows it with his ninth.

“The audience is wild. They do not understand this thing. They do not know that they are looking at the finest exhibition of artistic and strategic ball playing ever seen at Toronto. They think it’s child’s play, and their disappropriation is made loudly manifest.

“Pitcher Veach is also wild. That is what cool Mr. Kellogg is after. Veach fails to control the next ball and it goes by, wide of the plate. Strategist Kellogg carefully lays down his bat, and trots contently and smilingly to first.”¹

After that prolonged at bat, there were two Hamiltons on base and soon the bases were full after centerfielder Wright gets a single. The bases are loaded with none out when Hamilton’s ‘Chub’ Collins makes a hit, scoring two of the runners.

Wright, being a very fast runner, although he did not score on the play, did make it as far as third base. Hamilton left fielder McGunkin, the next batter, hit a hot shot to the Toronto second baseman who intended to force Collins out at second and then throw to first in time to get the second out. Unfortunately, in his anxiety to make a double play, he dropped the ball and no one got out:

“The Hamilton delegation, during this time, is vigorously demonstrating its lung power. “¹

The Toronto pitcher loses his composure and started yelling at his own second baseman for his poor fielding:

“Collins sees his chance, and makes a plunge for third. He is almost there when Veach is waked up. Veach turns and throws the ball at third, after the manner of a rifle ball. It is a little wild and the third baseman misses it, and the ball goes to the fence. Collins rushes home, and McGunkin legs it around the bases and adds the fifth run.

“Toronto people’s faces grow very long. Hamilton’s delegation is wild with excitement. Hats are waved and flung about, and grown men do and say things that they would never do or say again if they could but cooly sit and watch and listen to themselves.”¹

The Toronto scorekeeper charged with keeping the current score posted in chalk on a blackboard, according to the Spectator man tried “to make the 5 look like a three.”

The Torontos gets a run back in their half of the third inning, and another in the fourth. The score was 5 – 3 Hamilton when the Torontos came to bat in the bottom of the fifth. It seemed like the Torontos had tied the game on a particular hit that seemed to be a fair ball to the batter and the Toronto crowd, but umpire Hoover called it foul :

“(The batter) kicks quite vigorously, but the little umpire looks up at him and shakes his head. The Toronto partisans are sure it is a fair ball. The Hamilton partisans are willing to accept the umpire’s decision. He is in the best place to see. A Toronto reporter gets up in the box and shouts naughty names at the umpire.”¹

Nevertheless, the Torontos did manage to push two runners across the plate:

“And the big, hearty cheer echoes all along the valley of the Don, and scares the mudcats and tadpoles. The telegrapher works his key vigorously, and it is suspected that the ‘I-told-you-sos’ in Hamilton are swelling with self-esteem.”¹

To kill the Toronto rally, the Hamilton’s manager, and second baseman, Chub Collins, had seen enough of his starting pitcher:

“A pitching change by Chub Collins – “what is this? Can six thousand eyes be deceived ? Mickey Jones walks into the pitcher’s box, and picks up the ball. He passes a few practice balls to Jack Morrison, and the game is resumed. Jones doesn’t open up well. The umpire begins to call balls on him. The counts, one, two, three, four, five, six, and batter takes his first.

“The Toronto partisans laugh. They jeer Mr. Pitcher Jones, and say to one another, ‘We’ve got ‘em now,’ ‘What a pie!’ But they don’t have ‘em now, and there’s no appearance of the pie.

“ Jones’ good left hand begins to know what is expected of it, and his sharp curves and double-twisters follow each other over the plate in procession style. In the four innings, the newly-discovered southpaw pitcher pitches out such sluggers as Faatz, and Albert, and none of the Torontos make a hit. In the eighth inning, the Hamiltons score one and break the tie. The Hamilton delegation whoops it up with much sustained power.

“The ninth inning results in two blinders.

“ The Hamilton delegation elbow their way to the street, and are so happy that they don’t know to this day whether they rode up town in a K. of . L. street car, or a Frank Smith bus, or walked.”¹

The final score was 7 to 6.

The hero of the game was a first baseman turned pitcher, Mickey Jones. The Spectator reporter just had to laud the left-handed Hamilton player and conclude his account of the exciting game with the following poem :

 

          MICKEY OF CORK

Though bounded between us the billows of ocean –

   Though fate’s fickle fancy had pulled us apart –

Thy name wouldst still cause me the sweetest emotion,

   And though wouldst reign ever the king of my heart.

   Oh Mickey ! of pitchers boss pitcher thou art;

And though dost come from the precincts of Cork,

Thou canst strike out the sluggers in poor little York.

 

Yes, poor little York – let the mud go forever –

   Its pride, like a drunken man, sleeps in the dust;

Though the sluggers may slug, they can hit Mickey never.

   While their bats will corrupt with the ravenous rust

   Of comfort, old fellow, don’t give ‘em a crust –

You may give ‘em a crumb on the end of a fork,^*

But see that it stops there, of Mickey of Cork.

 

We boast of our bay, and our towering mountain,

   Of our cedar-blocked streets and our Thirteenth Batt. Band,

We brag of our Gore and its elegant fountain,

   Of our Beach with its willows and pillows of sand,

   But great above all these, great, yes, and grand,

Is he with long legs like the stalks of a stork,

But king among pitchers – our Mickey of Cork.”

^{*pitchfork  1}

1886-06-18 Windy Ball Game

June 17, 1886 was a windy day for a baseball game, and the game played on the diamond at Dundurn park proved to be a windy affair in more ways than one.

A team from Oswego, New York State was in Hamilton to play a local side.

The coverage from the Hamilton Spectator follows :

“The game at Dundurn yesterday was an atmospheric affair. The wind blew powerfully all through the game, in spite of the fact that the batters struck it some awful blows; the umpire used a great deal of wind to very good purpose, and anybody within a mile of the diamond could hear what he whispered; the long first baseman of the Oswegos kept up a continual shouting during the whole time his side was at bat; the Oswego team made a very effective chorus until the umpire intimated that he didn’t want no more of that ‘hollerin’ – altogether the game was quite windy.¹

¹ “The World of Sport”

Hamilton Spectator.   June 18, 1886

1884 - Naked Corpse

It was a scandal that just could not be covered up.

At 9:30 p.m., Sunday evening July 20, 1884, a lady named Mrs. Peter Bradt died in the Hamilton City Hospital.

A friend and neighbour George Searle went to the hospital to see if he could arrange a funeral for Mrs. Bradt, but hospital staff on duty were not co-operative, and gave no details as to the timing of the burial as the lady would be buried at the city’s expense in a pauper’s grave.

On Tuesday July 22, 1884, Mrs. Bradt was buried in the section of the Hamilton set aside for those of limited, or no means to purchase a plot, Potter’s Field.

Even at the cemetery, friends and family sensed something was wrong and that Mrs. Bradt had not been allowed the dignity of a proper burial. Before the coffin was lowered into the grave, it was noticed that the lid of the plain wooden coffin did not appear to be screwed down.

The lid was lifted by one of the deceased’s neighbours who was outraged by what he saw.

The body was being buried without a funeral shroud, the corpse was naked.

The management of the City Hospital refuses to address any questions about the matter and tried to let the matter blow over without any negative publicity.

Faint hope that was.

Reporters with both Hamilton city newspapers were informed about the matter and soon everyone in Hamilton did.

Finally on Monday August 4, 1884, a formal investigation into the incident was held.

The full Spectator report of that investigation follows:

“The investigation into the charges against the hospital management for allowing a corpse to be buried without being dressed was commenced at the city hospital last evening before the hospital  committee. There were present his worship Mayor Mason, Ald. Moore chairman, and Ald. McLagan, Stevenson, Blaicher, Allan and Bruce.

George Searle, the first witness, said : I live on Clarke avenue. I have to complain that Mrs. Peter Bradt was buried without a shroud on July 22. The lid of the coffin was not screwed down. The coffin was under a tree, and my little child lifted up the lid. Mrs. Bradt’s remains were perfectly nude. Mrs. Bradt died on Sunday night at 9:30. She was buried on Tuesday. When I saw her in the dead house, she had a sheet around her. The reason I came down to the hospital was in order that I might see about getting up a little funeral, but I could get no satisfaction as to time.

To Ald. McLagan – I did not use the spade to force the lid; there were no screws in the boards; Mrs. Bradt was my housekeeper. The caretaker told me that it was a sin to see anyone buried so, and that he would wait until I got some clothes. After I came back from the cemetery, I said to Dr. Woolverton that it was a shame to bury her so. He said “Why did you not marry her?” I said I could not marry her as she was a married woman. He said “You ought to have married her.” I said “I will let the newspapers know of this.” The doctor replied that I could go to hell and do it.

Dr. Woolverton here contradicted the statement, and asked to explain, but was requested to wait until called.

Mrs. Henry Searle was next called and said – I live on Ferrie street. The night before Mrs. Bradt’s death I brought her down a clean night dress. She asked me before she died to bring it. I left it in a drawer and told Mrs. Sloan it was to put on Mrs. Bradt when required. This was on Friday and Mrs. Bradt died on Sunday. I next saw her at the dead house. She had nothing on her except a sheet. I asked how it was she was not washed or dressed. A man – I think it was Mr. Young – said they did not wash or dress corpses until after the doctor had seen them. It was on Monday. I saw the corpse. I asked if I could get a dress and put it on her but he said no, that after  the doctor had seen her he would attend to it. I never got the clothes back which I took.

To Ald. Blaicher – At the time I brought the dress I did not tell any of the officials of the institution that I left them, but the officials knew that she had clothes. The woman I told was a patient. Mrs. Bradt took two suits of clothes with her when she went to the hospital. When Mrs. Bradt died she had a new wrapper, two petticoats, a shawl and a suit of underclothes. Mrs. Turner was with me when I saw the corpse in the dead house.

Dr. White said : I did not see the corpse. Dr. Woolverton telephoned me that Mrs. Bradt was dead, and asked me if I wished to hold a post mortem examination. When post mortem examinations are held it is customary for the corpses to be laid out on the table wrapped in a sheet. Post mortem examinations are sometimes made by the resident physician or by medical students. The records are made and kept.

Mrs. Elizabeth Turner, No. 2 Eliza street, said : I knew Mrs. Bradt who died in the hospital; saw Mrs. Bradt while she was sick, and again on Monday morning in the dead house. She was stripped, but had a sheet across her. She was not washed. Mrs. Searle was with me and asked if she might get some clothes put upon the corpse. I was with Mrs. Searle when she brought Mrs. Bradt a night dress and chemise. When Mrs. Searle brought  the clothes, she left them on the bed and did not tell any one about them. The man in the dead house said the corpse would be dressed after the doctor had seen it, if there were any clothes belonging to the deceased. Mrs. Searle told him that there were clothes in the drawer. Mrs. Bradt went by the name of Mrs. Searle.

Mr. Young, an attendant, said it was customary to wash patients after death and take them to the death house wrapped in a sheet. I saw the corpse of Mrs. Bradt washed on Sunday evening by one of the nurses. On Monday two women went to see her. They said they had permission from the doctor to go in. They asked about her being washed and dressed. Mrs. Bradt was clean but was not straightened because it was impossible to get her limbs straight. I usually dress corpses the day after death. I told the woman who offered to dress her that I would dress her after the doctor had seen her. They told me that there was clothes for her in the hospital, but did not say where. I made no inquiries about the clothes as I do not generally dress female corpses. He did not tell me anything about this one. I never knew of a case where anyone was buried without a shroud on. I was uptown on a message for the doctor when the corpse was taken away. The first I knew of the corpse without a shroud on was by hearing the patients talk of it after Mr. Searle had been to the hospital. I did not believe it.

Mr. Blachford, undertaker, said : I have the contract for burying all patients from the hospital; have had it for about five years. I do not provide shrouds. We place the corpses in coffins if such is not already done. We usually bring the coffin down just in time for the funeral. The corpses are generally clothed before we arrive. I have never known corpses to be buried naked except Mrs. Seale or Mrs. Bradt. That was on July 22. My assistant and myself put the corpse into the coffin. It was in a decomposed state. Mr. McMichael pointed out the body to us. It was pinned in a sheet. We took it out of the sheet and put it in the coffin without speaking to Mr. McMichael about it. The body was so discomposed that I considered it best to remove it as it was. The body was too much composed to be handled, and to be put into the coffin had to be lifted in the sheet. The lid of the coffin was firmly screwed on and I do not know how it got opened. I did not say that a man was drunk at the grave but at the hospital. I did not go to the cemetery with the corpse.

John Howick, Mr. Blachford’s assistant, said : I buried the corpse of Mrs. Searle. It was buried naked. I never knew a corpse to be buried naked before.  Mr. Blachford and I screwed the lid on. The body was clear from the lid and could not press it open. When I got to the cemetery, Mr. Craig told me to leave the corpse beside the grave till he finished burying another corpse. I did so, lifting the coffin out of the hearse by myself. When I left it there was no one around; the lid was still firmly on, and I do not believe that a child could open it.

Alexander Craig, caretaker of the cemetery, said : I buried the corpse of Mrs. Bradt or Searle – she went by the name of Searle. The lid seemed to be firmly on. When I was going to get some men to help me I saw Searle going into the free grave yard. When I went back I met Searle who told me that the coffin lid was loose and the corpse was in a nude state. The screws projected above the coffin lid and must have been raised in some way either by the lid being pried up or by some one trying to lift the coffin by the cover. I knew of one other case where a body was buried in a nude state; it was in last May. Searle  was very much excited but was not under the influence of liquor. I made no remark to Mr. Searle about getting clothes and did not offer to keep the body till Searle got the clothes.

Mrs. Pringle, night nurse, said : I remember Mrs. Searle. She died at 9:10 o’clock Sunday July 20. I washed the corpse and Mr. Young and Mrs. Steward took it away. I washed the entire body.

Mrs. Eby, day nurse in the women’s ward, said : Mrs. Searle brought two night dresses with her to the hospital. I knew nothing of Mrs. Searle’s burial. I found a parcel in Mrs. Searle’s drawer, but did not open it, as I had received no instructions as to what it contained. Never  knew a patient to be buried without being properly dressed. The porter generally dresses the patients, except when it is done by friends. He applies to the nurses for clothes if they are not supplied. The parcel is still my care. I always take charge of the clothing which patients bring in a put in the wardrobe. I take a record of all effects and the steward takes the list for my book.

Mr. McMichael, steward, said : I never knew a corpse to be buried naked from the hospital. I remember when Mrs. Searle died. I and the porter carried the body from the ward to the morgue. I never saw the body. The undertaker usually puts the corpses in the coffins. I was at the morgue when the undertaker came to get the corpse., and told him which one to take. I did not know that the corpse was put into the coffin naked. Corpses are always dressed in a shroud. I saw the sheet pinned around the corpse, although it is generally thrown over the body after the clothing is put on.

A long discussion here arose as to the duties of the nurse and steward of the hospital, and as it promised to lead to a review of the entire by-law as well as an investigation into the duties of the officials of the institution, Mr. Blaicher objected to the chairman investigating the duties of Mr. McMichael, and asked that the committee keep to the main question.

Dr. Woolverton was next called, he said : I never knew a corpse to be buried without being dressed properly. I heard that Mrs. Searle was buried without being dressed. Mr. Searle came down and told me, I said, I did not think it was so, to which he replied that he knew it was so as a child had seen it. I again said I did not believe it to be so, but would see about it. I asked him why he did not come and see me about her. I did not tell him to go to hell, although he was very insolent. He said he would put it in the papers, and I said he could do as he pleased about that. I made inquiries at the hospital, but no one seemed to know anything about it. The next day I told the porter to ask Mr. Blachford about it. He did so and told me that Mr. Blachford said it was so. I asked Mrs. McMichael, but she said it was the nurse’s duty to see that the body was properly dressed and delivered to the undertaker. In case of post mortem examinations I always instruct the porter to wash the body. If there is no post mortem, the body is left up after being dressed until the undertaker takes charge. It is the nurse’s duty after a death to hand the patient’s clothes over to the steward, unless some friends claim them. On the day of the funeral, I instructed Mr. McMichael to look after the funeral. The porter was uptown at the time of the funeral. I did not send, but someone must have.”

The inquest ultimately found no one to blame for the incident and no penalties or reprimands were assigned to anyone at the hospital or the cemetery as a result of the unfortunate occurrence.

In the court of public opinion, however, there were many findings of guilt. Even in Toronto, the case was reported with damaging comments about the management of the Hamilton City hospital.

A poem on the case was published in the Toronto World:

.

"Owed – By the Managers and Officials of Hamilton City Hospital”

J. Keyelle in Toronto World

She was only a woman, hardworking and poor,

Who, in the long feud with the wolf at the door,

Was beaten. At last, by sickness o’erborne,

She crawled to the hospital n’er to return.

What matter – now death has her fast I his clutches,

Dump her into the coffin – who cares for such wretches?

Naked came she to earth, naked let her go,

We’re believers, and go by the scriptures, you know.

Bare was the mute face, bare the soft female frame,

Not a rag once spread o’er her for pity or shame;

Thrown in like a dog, in the rude box they made her,

With the lid loose above – in the field thus they laid her.

Was there no one around, fifteen cents could have spared,

For three yards of cotton, at five cents a yard?

Just to swathe the poor body that so late was – a woman;

For though she was poor, unlike you, she was – human.

God! Are there no Christians in Hamilton “town,”

Must economy so your best feelings grind down,

That the poor, who through life are by poverty tried,

Must of a Christian burial too be denied?

1884 - Jamestown Weed

It was a very distressing afternoon for the Greening family of Hughson street north

On August 7, 1884, the five year son of the Greenings had been playing outside in the family’s back yard when he became in a distressed state.

The Spectator account of the incident follows:

“A number of children have died at various times, from eating stramonium, or, as it is more familiarly known, the Jamestown weed, which grows in almost every backyard, on commons and in valleys. The only wonder is that the disastrous results are not more frequent, as plenty of children have an unfortunate habit of chewing indiscriminately at the grasses and weeds growing in uncared for places. Yesterday afternoon, a bright little five year old son of Mrs. Greening, of Hughson street north, came home with his face flushed, swollen and feverish, his manner and actions indicating that he was quite delirious. His peculiar appearance and actions were not noticed at first, but so soon as the mother did observe them, she sent at once for Dr. Woolverton, who came immediately, and seeing that the child had been poisoned, administered antidotes, and did everything in his power to save the little one’s life. The poison had already got into his system however, and at a late hour last night, he was lying in an unconscious state and not expected to recover. Dr. Woolverton said there was a possibility that he might pull through, but it was very doubtful. From a companion it was learned that the child had been eating stramonium in the yard during the afternoon. The poison in the weed is very violent, and parents should prevent its growing in their yards, as the little ones are liable to eat it at any time.”

Regular readers of the Spectator would have been relieved to read the following brief item which appeared in the Diurnal Epitome the day afternoon the report of the Jamestown Weed poisoning incident:

“The five year old son of Mrs. Greening who was poisoned through eating stramonium, is fortunately much better and Dr. Woolverton thinks he will recover.”

1886 - Barton Street Jail, a Poetic Tribute

The stone pile on Barton Street east built to house criminals of all sorts was the focus of not a little fear and fascination throughout its history.
In 1886, the following poem or song lyric was composed in tribute to Hamilton's Barton Street Jail :

“Barton Street East; Or, the Hamilton Jail”

          Tune - “Villikens and Dinah

          On Barton Street East, there's a beautiful spot,

          A Boarding House neat, where you get your meals hot,

          With nice bread and water, and it don't cost a cent,

          For the taxes, they pay both the board and the rent.

          Chorus -

                   Turn out every man of you, all in a line,

                   From the cell to the stone yard, each man must keep time

                   'Till one o'clock strikes, they all work like a beast,

                   “Tis a great Institution, on Barton Street East,

          The windows are airy, barred up to the slide,

          To keep all the boarders from falling outside;

          They've each a nice suit, made of green and brown,

          And they trim your hair neatly, the best in town.

          There's a carriage so grand, built “regardless of cost,”

          Gold letters on each side, for fear it gets lost,

          With footmen and guards, that dress up “so neat,”

          And your “bracelets” and “chains” hideaway 'neath your seat.

          All know whence you're bound, when the “rig” they behold,

          For its sides tell the tale, in bright letters of gold,

          They've ropes, rings and handcuffs and guards, stern at least,

          To make your trip sure to the “Castle Down East.”

          If you want to get into this fancy retreat,

          Drink “tangle-leg whiskey,” get drunk on the street,

          Then, Jimmy Cahill, he will soon “check your trunk,”

          An' book you there “ten days” as down for “a drunk.”

          “Turn out every man of you,” then one got sick,

          The Doctor then had him rubbed down with a brick,

          Put a great mustard plaster on the top of his head,

          By the great “Hokey Pokey,” he though he was dead.

                                                                             W.M.

          Published in the Palladium of Labour

          July 17, 1886.