Solution Manual for Refrigeration and Air Conditioning

Technology 8th Edition Tomczyk Silberstein Whitman Johnson

1305578295 9781305578296
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1305578295-9781305578296/

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Unit 2
SAFETY Checklist
●● Power-consuming devices have the potential to cause
injury. Be sure to de-energize all pumps, motors and other
electrical devices before working on them.
This unit defines matter, mass, density, specific grav-ity, and ●● When measuring pressures, be sure that your test
specific volume. Gas laws, including Boyle’s law, Charles’ instruments are fully operational and properly cali-
law, the general law of perfect gas, and Dalton’s law, are brated to avoid possible injury.
stated. The broad subject of energy is covered, as well as
energy in heat and in magnetism. The measurement of
energy in horsepower, watts, and British thermal units is
discussed. Unit review questions, key terms in the Lab EXERCISES (LAB MANUAL)
Manual and Workbook, and Lab Manual and Workbook
Exercises 2-1, 2-2, and 2-3
Review Test questions may be used, as discussed in Unit 1.

OBJECTIVES
After studying this unit, the student should be able to:
●● define matter.
●● list the three states in which matter is commonly found.
●● define density.
●● discuss Boyle’s law.
●● state Charles’ law.
●● discuss Dalton’s law as it relates to the pressure of
different gases.
●● define specific gravity and specific volume.
●● state two forms of energy important to the HVAC/R
industry.
●● describe work and state the formula used to determine
the amount of work done by performing a given task.
●● define horsepower.
●● convert horsepower to watts.
●● convert watt-hours to British thermal units.
 15. It describes how one gas reacts when mixed with
another. For example, natural gas is lighter than air and

Matter and Energy rises; propane is heavier than air and falls. Specific
volume must be considered when determin-ing the size
of compressors or vapor pumps. Specific volume of air
also provides the HVAC/R system designer with
information regarding how many pounds of air are
UNIT 2 ANSWERS being moved by blowers and fans.
TO REVIEW QUESTIONS (TEXT) 16. B.
17. It will expand when heated or contract when cooled.
1. D.
18. Dalton’s law states that the total pressure of a con-
2. Solid, liquid, and gas.
fined mixture of gases is the sum of the pressures of
3. Ice.
each of the gases in the mixture.
4. Down.
19. Solar and fossil fuels.
5. Downward and outward.
20. From decaying animal and vegetable matter com-
6. D.
pressed below the earth’s surface.
7. Weight per unit volume of a substance.
21. Power.
8. The density of a substance compared to the density of
22. Force 3 distance.
water.
9. The volume occupied by 1 pound of a fluid. 23. 4 ft 3 300 lb 5 1200 foot-pounds.
10. The moon has less mass than the earth, thus its 24. An early expression of power, or the equivalent of
gravitational pull is weaker. raising 33,000 pounds to a height of 1 foot in one
11. Specific volume 5 1 1210 lb/ft3 5 0.000826 ft3/lb. minute. Weight, height, and time.
12. Density 5 1 (0.001865 ft3/lb) 5 536.19 lb/ft3. 25. 746 watts 5 1 horsepower.
13. Specific gravity 5 171 lb/ft3 62.4 lb/ft3 5 2.74. 26. (4 kW 3 3413 Btu/kW) 5 13,652 Btu/h.
14. Density is (4 lb 10 ft3) 5 0.4 lb/ft3. 27. 12,000 watts 3 3.413 Btu/Wh 5 40,956 Btu/h.
Specific gravity is (0.4 lb/ft3 62.4 lb/ft3) 5 0.0064. 28. Kilowatt hour.

© 2017 Cengage Learning ®. May not be scanned, copied or duplicated, or posted to a publicly
accessible website, in whole or in part. 3
4 Unit 2

V V UNIT 2 ANSWERS TO REVIEW

29. The pressure is constant so 1 5 2 . T1
T2 TEST QUESTIONS (LAB MANUAL)
VT
V2 5 1 2
T 1. C. 5. D. 8. C. 11. D.
1
2. A. 6. A. 9. C. 12. D.
3. B. 7. D. 10. D. 13. C.
(3000 ft3)(55 1 460) R° 5
V5 2887.8ft3 4. C.
2
(751 460)°R
PV PV
30. T
1 1
5 2 2

T
1 2

PV T 1 1 2
P2
5 T 1 V2
3
P 5(10 psig 1 14.696) (10.5 in )(180° 1 460)°R COMPLETED CHART FROM EXERCISE 2-1
2 (651 460)°R(1.5 in3)
(Bolded values in parentheses represent the items that were
P2 5 210.74 psia
to be filled in by the student.)
P2 5 (210.74 psia 2 14.696) 5 196 psig

Density Specific
Density Density 3
(lb/ft ) Gravity Substance
Substance (lb/in3) (oz/in3)
A (0.7) (11.2) 1208 (19.36) (GOLD)
B (0.036) (0.58) (62.4) 1 (WATER)
C (0.317) (5.07) (548) (8.78) RED BRASS
D 0.3218 (5.15) (556) (8.91) (COPPER)
E (0.033) 0.5324 (57.5) (0.92) (ICE)
F (0.099) (1.58) 171 (2.74) (ALUMINUM)
G (0.70) (11.2) (1210) 19.39 (TUNGSTEN)
H (0.094) (1.5) (162) (2.596) MARBLE

ANSWERS TO QUESTIONS IN COMPLETED CHART FROM EXERCISE 2-2

EXERCISE 2-1
(Bolded values in parentheses represent the items that
1. D. 2. C. 3. A. 4. A. were to be filled in by the student.)

Line P1 V1 T1 P2 V2 T2
3 3
1 50 psig 20 ft 100°F (25 psia) 50 ft 80°F
3
2 50 psia 2,000 ft 75°F 50 psia (2291 ft3) 130°F
3 40 psia 30 in3 80°F 50 psia (24 ft3) 80°F
4 (100 psia) 20 ft3 500R 200 psia 12 ft3 600 R
5 100 psia 10 ft3 600R 100 psia 25 ft3 (1500 R)
3 3
6 80 psia (150 ft ) 400R 150 psia 100 ft 500 R
3 3
7 150 psia 100 ft (700R) 300 psia 50 ft 700 R
8 80 psia 500 ft3 600R (160 psia) 100 ft3 240 R

© 2017 Cengage Learning®. May not be scanned, copied or duplicated, or posted to a publicly
accessible website, in whole or in part.
 Matter and Energy 5

ANSWERS TO QUESTIONS
IN EXERCISE 2-2
1. D.
2. B.
3. Absolute pressure and temperature scales both have
zero as their lowest values, so any pressure above 0
psia or temperature above zero degrees Rankin will be
indicated by positive values. By keeping all of the
values positive, the gas law as shown in Section 2.6 of
the textbook will be a linear relationship existing
among the pressure, temperature, and volume of the gas.
If non-absolute scales are used, the relationships
become non-linear and significant calculation errors
can, and will, arise.
COMPLETED CHART FROM EXERCISE 2-3
(Bolded values in parentheses represent the items that were
to be filled in by the student.)

Distance Weight Work Time Power Power Heat

Line (ft) (lb) (ft-lb) (min) (W) (kW) (btuh) HP
1 500 100 (50,000) 5 (226) (0.226) (771) 0.303
2 (20) 500 10,000 2 113.03 (0.113) (386) (0.15)
3 (4,409) 250 (1,102,200) 1 (24,905) (24.91) 85,000 (33.4)
4 1000 (1,106) (1,105,500) 2 (25,000) 25 (85,325) (33.5)
5 (1000) 150 150,000 (0.06) (55,950) (55.95) (190,957) 75
6 10,000 (22.12) (221,180) 10 (5,000) 5 (17,065) (6.7)
7 (518.4) 500 (259,220) 1 (5,860) (5.86) 20,000 (7.86)
8 5,000 (518.4) (2,592,200) 5 (58,600) (58.6) 200,000 (78.6)

ANSWERS TO QUESTIONS IN
EXERCISE 2-3
1. B.
2. D.
3. B.

© 2017 Cengage Learning®. May not be scanned, copied or duplicated, or posted to a publicly
accessible website, in whole or in part.
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
He kin’ o’ l’itered on the mat,
Some doubtfle o’ the sekle;
His heart kept goin’ pity-pat,
But hern went pity Zekle.

An’ yit she gin her cheer a jerk

Ez though she wished him furder,
An’ on her apples kep’ to work,
Parin’ away like murder.

“You want to see my Pa, I s’pose?”

“Wal ... no ... I come designin’”—
“To see my Ma? She’s sprinklin’ clo’es
Agin to-morrer’s i’nin’.”

To say why gals act so or so,

Or don’t, ’ould be presumin’;
Mebby to mean yes an’ say no
Comes nateral to women.

He stood a spell on one foot fust,

Then stood a spell on t’other,
An’ on which one he felt the wust
He couldn’t ha’ told ye nuther.

Says he, “I’d better call agin;”

Says she, “Think likely, Mister”;
Thet last word pricked him like a pin,
An’ ... Wal, he up an’ kist her.

When Ma bimeby upon ’em slips,

Huldy sot pale as ashes,
All kin’ o’ smily roun’ the lips
An’ teary roun’ the lashes.

For she was jes’ the quiet kind

Whose naturs never vary,
Like streams that keep a summer mind
 Snowhid in Jenooary.

The blood clost roun’ her heart felt glued

Too tight for all expressin’,
Tell mother see how matters stood,
An’ gin ’em both her blessin’.

Then her red come back like the tide

Down to the Bay o’ Fundy,
An’ all I know is they was cried
In meetin’ come next Sunday.

A RAINY DAY
By Ellye Howell Glover

I simply cannot understand

Why grown-ups always say,
“Don’t spend your money, little boy;
Save for a rainy day.”

Once, when the circus was in town

I asked Bob for a quarter;
He said, “You’re so extravagant,
For shame; I think you’d oughter—

“Save all your pennies; after while

You’ll need them, silly baby;
For if you spend them all, you’ll go
Out to the poorhouse—maybe.”

And so I waited till next time

When it rained cats and dogs;
I took the big umbrella, and
Put on my oldest togs.

And when they stopped me with the words

I knew of course they’d say,
I hollered, “I must spend my dime,
Cause it’s a rainy day.”

SCHOOL’S COMMENCED
By Leonard G. Nattkemper

Well, I guess I’ll have to go—

For school’s commenced again, you know;
An’ now I’ll have to be polite,
An’ watch my words wif all my might.

I wish the school ’ud blow away,

Or teachers all were sick to-day;
For nen I’d be just what I am,
An’ play all day wif Jake an’ Sam.

I guess us boys ’ud ruther be

The pirates on a stormy sea,
That shoot wif guns an’ cut wif knives,
Than spend in school most all our lives.

I can’t see why Ma thinks ’at school

Is better place than swimmin’ pool;
Or that I’ll learn more in a book
Than from my pal, the flowin’ brook.

It may be so, but I don’t care,

I’d ruther be a-dreamin’ there
How fine it is to be like men,
An’ never go to school again.

My Ma an’ Pa both said that they

Would be so glad when I’m away;
An’ so, I guess I’ll have to go—
For school’s commenced again, you know.
 UNDERSTAENDLICH
By Edmund Vance Cooke
(ABRIDGED)

Dhe contrariest t’ing on dhe erd is men,

Aber wimmens arr twice so contrary again,
Andt I am twice so contrary as you,
Andt you arr as worse as dhe worst one too;
Now, ain’d dhat zo?

You like to haf hoonger by dinner, you say,

Aber vhy do you eadt, so dat hoonger go ’vay?
You like to be tired, so you schleep like a top,
Andt you like to go schleep, so dhat tired feeling shtop;
Now, ain’d dhat zo?

You like to haf sugar on sauer t’ings you eadt

Andt you like to haf sauer mit dhe t’ings vhat arr sweet,
You like to be cold when dhe vetter is hot;
Andt it is cold, ach, how varm you vould got!
Now, aindt dhat zo?

How you shdare at dhe man vhat can valk up dhe street
On his hands, yet you valk twice so goodt on your feet,
Vhat a long mind you haf, if I’m in your debt,
Budt if you arr in mine, O, how quick you forget!
Now, aindt dhat zo?

Are you single? You like to be married, of course.

Are you married? Most likely you like a divorse!
Andt if you vas get unmarried, why dhen
You go righd avay and got married again.
Now, ain’d dhat zo?

It is bedter to laugh; it is foolish to fight

Yoost because I am wrong and because you ain’d right,
It is better to laugh mit dhe vorld, up and down
From dhe sole of our headt to the foot of our crown;
Now, ain’d dhat zo?

Zo, dhen you laugh at me andt dhen I laugh at you,

Andt dhe more dhat you laugh vhy dhe more I laugh, too,
Andt ve laugh till ve cry! Vhen ve cry, aber dhen,
Ve will bot’ feel zo goot ve go laughing again!
Now, ain’d dhat zo?

A THURRU’ REST
Anonymous

Examination’s over ’n’ I don’t care if I passed,

An’ I don’t care if I didn’t fer vacation’s come at last!
I thought ’twould never git here, fer the days dragged by as slow
As Davy Jones’s ma, who calls ’n’ don’t know when to go.
Pop says I ort to go to work, but ma says she knows best,
’N’ what a boy of my age needs is just a thurru’ rest.

So me an’ Dave’ll get up every mornin’ bright ’n’ soon,

An’ pitch ’n’ ketch till breakfast, ’n’ bat up flies till noon.
’Cause after dinner every day the Hustlehards—his nine—
Is goin’ to play a series fer the champeenship with mine:
The one behind at dark has got to say the other’s best.
Gee! ain’t I glad vacation’s here ’n’ I got time to rest.

Then I’m a-goin’ to learn the other fellers how to dive,

An’ rassle Billy Potter, best thirteen in twenty-five!
’N’ after supper Dave ’n’ I are goin’ to have a race,
Ten times around the block, ’n’ if I win he’ll bust my face.
That’s what he says! But he’ll find out which one of us is best;
I’m feeling pretty strong now since I’m havin’ such a rest.

There’s goin’ to be a picnic ’n’ you bet yer life I’m goin’;
I’m entered in the swimmin’ race, ’n’ greasy pole, ’n’ rowin’,
The sack race ’n’ potato race are mine, I bet a dime,
’N’ in “the mile” I simply got to win the prize fer time,
’Cause it’s a ticket to the Gym. I like that prize the best,
Fer a feller needs some exercise as well as just a rest.

I’m goin’ to visit Uncle’s farm. He lets me do the chores

’N’ work just like the farm-hands do, right in the fields out-doors.
I’m goin’ to git a bag to punch, so’s I won’t git too fat:
We’re goin’ to have a six-day race—I got to train fer that.
I want to do so many things, I don’t know which is best;
I bet vacation’s over ’fore I get a thurru’ rest!

NO SHOOTIN’ OFF THIS YEAR

Anonymous

There ain’t no Declaration. Naw

There ain’t no Fourth-July.
There ain’t no “free ’n’ equal” law,
’N’ Washin’ton could lie.
They never dumped no Boston tea;
It’s fakey, all you hear,
Fer pop says there ain’t goin’ to be
No shootin’ off this year.

They talk about pertectin’ us

To keep the Fourth in peace;
But we ain’t makin’ any fuss,
Ner askin’ fer police.
We ain’t afraid of smoke ’n’ noise,
Er little lumps of lead;
’N’ why should they blame livin’ boys
Because some boys is dead?

It ain’t my fault the fuse went out

’N’ Tom went up ’n’ blew;
Besides he’s just as well without
His extry ear er two.
They cut off Oscar’s leg, but he
 Don’t seem to miss it much;
He’d beat us hoppin’ yet, if we
’Ud let him use his crutch.

It ain’t my fault that Willie blew

His hand off, like a chump;
I told him what those big ones do;
He needn’t ’a’ took the stump.
It ain’t my fault a rocket flies
’N’ hits some him er her;
Somebody’s got to wear glass eyes;
That’s what glass eyes is fer!

It ain’t my fault the stuff was bad

They made Jim’s pistol of;
Besides the preacher said, “We’re glad
He’s happier up above!”
Bet I’d be happier, anyhow,
Most any place but here,
Where they ain’t goin’ to allow
No shootin’ off this year!

HAUL AWAY, JOE

By Charles Keeler

O Oi wuz a loafin’ lubber but bedad I learned to wurrk

Whin Oi loighted out o’ County Corrk along wid Paddy Burrke.
We stowed abarrd a coaster an’ her skipper wuz a brick;
Begorrah if yez didn’t moind, he’d boost yez wid a kick!
Away, haal away, haal away, Joe!

Th’ pigs wuz lane in County Corrk, th’ men all starrved on taties,
But Oi shipped upon a Yankee barrk, and better, faith, me fate is!
Och Oi hed an Irish darlint, but she ghrew so fat an’ lazy
Thet Oi bounced her fur a Yankee gurrl, an’ surre but she’s a daisy!
Away, haal away, haal away, Joe!
O since Oi lift auld Ireland Oi’ve poaked thro’ miny plaices,
Oi’ve wurrked me way, Oi’ve arrned me pay at haalin’ shates an’
braces;
On farrin’ shorres Oi’ve sot me eye on gurrls iv iv’ry nashin,
Me Yankee gurrl hes ne’er a mate throughhout th’ woid creashin!
Away, haal away, haal away, Joe!

—Copyright by the publisher, A. M. Robertson, San Francisco, and

used by his kind permission.

BLACK SAILORS’ CHANTY

By Charles Keeler

Yo ho, ma hahties, da’s a hurricane a-brewin’,

Fo’ de cook he hasn’t nuffin fo’ de sailah-men a-stewin’,—
He am skulkin’ in his bunk, am dat niggah of a cook,
An’ his chaowdah ’m in de ocean while de pot am on de hook.
You can chaw a chunk o’ hahd-tack mos’ as tendah as a brick,
But d’ain’t no smokin’ ’possum when de cook am lyin’ sick.

Ah remembah in de cane-fiel’ we hed pone-cakes ebry day;

Slack yo line a bit, ma hahties! pull away! pull away!
An’ Ah ’low Ah’m feelin’ homesick, jes’ t’ mention ob ma honey,—
She’s a libbin’ at de cabin an’ she’s out o’ cloes an’ money.
While we chaw a chunk o’ hahd-tack mos’ as tendah as a brick,
But d’ain’t no smokin’ ’possum while de cook am lyin’ sick.

O ma po’ neglected Liza an’ her piccaninny Jo,

Ah’s ben roamin’ sence Ah left her case Ah wanted fo’ to go!
Ah’s ben hustlin’ roun’ de islands, navigatin’ all de sea,
While ma honey specs a hungry shark done stuff hisself wid me.
While we chaw a chunk o’ hahd-tack mos’ as tendah as a brick,
But d’ain’t no smokin’ ’possum while de cook am lyin’ sick.

—Copyright by the publisher, A. M. Robertson, San Francisco; and

used by his kind permission.
 JOSIAH AND SYMANTHY
By Fred Emerson Brooks

Josiah loved Symanthy

And Symanthy loved Josi’,
Which you couldn’t fail to notice
In the rollin’ of the eye;
But they never told each other,
On account o’ bein’ shy,
’Pears to me!

But they kept right on a-lovin’

Jes like any couple would.
Weren’t no reason why they shouldn’t,
Ner no reason why they should,
’Cause there wa’n’t no p’ints about ’em
Cupid reckoned on as good,
’Pears to me!

Now this love disease is mortal,

’Cause it tackles mortals so,
An’ the oftener you have it
The worse it seems to grow;
More you try to hide the symptoms,
More the symptoms seem to show,
’Pears to me!

Josiah was uneasy

When Symanthy wasn’t near,
An’ he got still more uneasy
Whenever she’d appear.
But sittin’ down beside ’er
Got his joints clean out o’ gear,
’Pears to me!

He put his arm behind ’er,

An’ then he pulled it back
Until Symanthy giggled:
“Guess yer gittin’ on the track
By the way yer flusticatin’;
Kind a-lookin’ fer a smack,
’Pears to me!”

Then Josiah stopped a minute,

Jes consid’rin’ how ’twould be
An’ how best to go about it,
’Cause he hadn’t much idee;
But he knew ’twas waitin’ fer him,
By Symanthy’s shy te-he!
’Pears to me!

Then Symanthy got pretending,

She was bitin’ off her thumb,
But she wasn’t—she was waitin’
For whatever chose to come;
While Josiah’s tongue kept rollin’
In his cheek, like chewin’-gum,
’Pears to me!

When Josiah was persuaded

That Symanthy wouldn’t shout,
Wa’n’t a-jokin’, ner a-foolin’,
Ner a-fixin’ to back out,—
Then he buckled up his courage:
Kissed her cheek or thereabout,
’Pears to me!

Then he asked ’er if she’d have him,

An’ she answered: “What d’ ye guess?”
Said he wa’n’t no good at guessin’;
So she smiled an’ snickered: “Yes!
Since I git ye all fer nothin’
I couldn’t do no less,
’Pears to me!”
When the Squire asked ’em the questions—
On the weddin’-day they set—
Which some people answer quickly
An’ about as soon forget,—
Symanthy said: “I reckin!”
An’ Josiah said: “You bet!”
’Pears to me!

When they took their weddin’ journey

Up an’ down the city street,
Josiah told Symanthy
That he guessed they’d have a treat:
So they went an’ got some oysters—
What they never yet had eat,
’Pears to me!

Then Josiah, sort o’ thinkin’,

Said: “I thought they had a shell;
What the slipp’ry things resemble
I’ll be switched if I can tell;
An’ they look so pale an’ sickly
Kind o’ reckon they ain’t well,
’Pears to me!”

“I wonder how they eat ’em?”

Said Symanthy, “How’d I know?
I’ve eat everythin’ that you have
Ever since you’ve been my beau!
But I’ll bet a cent ye dasn’t
Put one in an’ let ’er go!
’Pears to me!”

While Symanthy eat the crackers

Josiah let one slip;
Said it didn’t taste like nothin’;
Wasn’t ripe; then closed his lip;
Vowed he wouldn’t eat another,
Fear ’twould spile his weddin’ trip,
 ’Pears to me!

When the tip-expectin’ beggar

Bowed, an’ smilin’ meekly, said:
“Colonel hasn’t feed the waitah!”
Then Josiah jerked his head—
“You can feed on them ’ere oysters
If the pesky things ain’t dead,
’Pears to me!”

—Copyright by Forbes & Co., Chicago, and used by kind

permission of author and publisher.

CHARLIE JONES’S BAD LUCK

By A. J. Waterhouse
(As discussed by little Willie)

I don’t care if Charlie Jones

Is better ’an I be;
An’ I don’t care if teacher says
He’s smart ’long side er me;
An’ I don’t care, w’en vis’tors come,
If she on him does call;
He ain’t got measles, like I have—
He don’t have luck at all.

He never had the whoopin’ cough,

Ner mos’ cut off his thumb,
Ner ever fell an’ broke his leg
An’ had a doctor come.
He hardly ever stubs his toe,
An’ if he does, he’ll bawl!
There’s nothin’ special comes to him—
He don’t have luck at all.

An’ I don’t care if he can say

 More tex’s an’ things ’an I;
He never burnt both hands to once
’Long ’bout the Fo’th July.
He never had the chicken-pox,
Ner p’isen oak—las’ Fall!
He can’t be proud o’ nothin’ much—
He don’t have luck at all.

—From “Lays for Little Chaps.”

KISSING’S NO SIN
Anonymous

Some say that kissing’s a sin;

But I think it’s nane ava,
For kissing has wonn’d in this warld
Since ever that there was twa.

O, if it wasna lawfu’,
Lawyers wadna allow it;
If it wasna holy,
Ministers wadna do it.

If it wasna modest,
Maidens wadna take it;
If it wasna plenty,
Puir folks wadna get it.

IF I DARST
By Eugene Field

I’d like to be a cowboy, an’ ride a firey hoss

Way out into the big and boundless West;
I’d kill the bears an’ catamounts an’ wolves I come across,
An’ I’d pluck the bal’ head eagle from his nest!
 With my pistol at my side,
I would roam the prarers wide,
An’ to scalp the savage Injun in his wigwam would I ride—
If I darst; but I darsen’t.

I’d like to go to Afriky an’ hunt the lions there,

An’ the biggest ollyfunts you ever saw!
I would track the fierce gorilla to his equatorial lair,
An’ beard the cannybull that eats folks raw.

I’d chase the pizen snakes

An’ the pottimus that makes
His nest down at the bottom of unfathomable lakes—
If I darst; but I darsen’t.

I would I were a pirut to sail the ocean blue,

With a big black flag a-flyin’ overhead;
I would scour the billowy main with my gallant pirut crew,
An’ dye the sea a gouty, gory red.

With my cutlass in my hand

On the quarterdeck I’d stand
And to deeds of heroism I’d incite my pirut band—
If I darst; but I darsen’t.

And, if I darst, I’d lick my pa for the times that he’s licked me,
I’d lick my brother an’ my teacher, too,
I’d lick the fellers that call round on sister after tea,
An’ I’d keep on lickin’ folks till I got through.

You bet. I’d run away

From my lessons to my play,
An’ I’d shoo the hens, and tease the cat, an’ kiss the girls all day—
If I darst; but I darsen’t.

DERNDEST GAL I EVER KNOWED

By Herbert Bashford
Derndest gal I ever knowed,
Neatest gal I ever seen,
Lived down in the Red Ravine
Jest below the county road,
Guess she wuz about sixteen—
Sophy wuz her name, an’ she
Wuz ez cute ez cute kin be.

When I’d go t’ town I brung

Her the biggest lot o’ stuff,
Pop-corn, likrish, ’n’ enough
Candy fer t’ fill a room.
Once she hit me with a broom
Cuz I kissed her on the cheek,
An’ the midget wouldn’t speak
T’ me fer, perhaps, a week.

When I’d raise my eyes to hern

Jeminny! my cheeks ’ud burn
An’ git redder ’n’ a beet.
Oh, she looked jest powerful sweet!
When I’d try to call her dear,
Why, I’d feel so doggoned queer
That I’d lean ag’in’ th’ fence
’Zif I didn’ hev no sense,
Twist th’ buttons on my vest,
Ast her who she liked th’ best,
Ast her if it wuzn’t Bill,
Er old Jones thet run th’ mill,
Keep a-hintin’ ’round, yuh see,
Till she’d up an’ say ’twuz me.

I wuz jellus o’ Jim Pike,

Jellus ez th’ very deuce
Though there didn’t seem much use,
Fer his freckles wuz so thick,
An’ his hair wuz so like brick
Thet a feller one day said
Yuh could toast a hunk o’ bread
Ef yuh’d hold it nigh his head.
He wuz awkarder’n sin,
Never fished along the crick
But he’d hev t’ tumble in.

Sophy ’peared t’ pity Jim,

While I thought if I wuz him
I’d go off ’n’ hide somewhere,
Else put plaster on my hair.
But this homely, lantern-jawed
Lookin’ cuss stood ’round ’n’ chawed
On a plug o’ terbacker
Half his time ’n’ talked t’ her
Of his love, till I jest told
Him t’ mosey, an’ he rolled
Up his sleeves ’n’ landed me
Plumb betwixt th’ eyes, then he
Went to Sophy, an’, sir, she
Married him! The pesky mule!
Wuzn’t she a reg’ler fool?
I wuz jest tetotally blowed—
Derndest gal I ever knowed!

—Copyright by Harr Wagner Co., San Francisco, and used by kind

permission of author and publisher.

ON NEWBRASKY’S FERTILE SHORE

By Herbert Bashford

Oh, I am so orful humsick! An’ I feel so wretched queer!

Ephrum, he has gone a-ridin’ on a wild eclectric keer,
Rhody—that’s my only darter—she has gone an’ left me, tew,
Both a trapesin’ ’round like ijits—wonder what’s th’ next they’ll do?
They don’t seem to think they’re darin’ Providence right in th’ face,
Ridin’ without hoss er engine ’n’ goin’ at a break-neck pace:
Course I needn’t stand here waitin’, both insisted I should come,
But I vow I’ll not be reckless when I am so fer from hum:
Clear out here by th’ Pacific, jist as fur as we kin git,
An’ if we stay here much longer I declare I’ll hev a fit.
It’s th’ most deceivin’ kentry as ever’ one’ll say
Ever’ drap o’ water salty in th’ hull o’ Frisco bay.
Oh, I’ve tramped these pesky sidewalks till my feet is lame an’ sore,
An’ a-yearnin’ ever’ minute fur Newbrasky’s fertile shore!

Then they brag about their scenery! Californy! Humph! O dear!

Scenery! Well, jest speaking plainly, I don’t see no scenery here:
Nothin’ but the mount’in ranges rarin’ up so ’tarnal high
Thet a buddy kint look nowheres ’cept the middle o’ th’ sky.
Mount’ins, everlastin’ mount’ins, hills ’n’ woods ’n’ rocks ’n’ snow,
Where th’ scenery is they’re braggin’ on I’m th’ one as wants t’ know.
Let ’em stand in Lincoln county jest aback our cowyard fence,
An’ if they don’t say there’s scenery they hain’t got a mite o’ sense;
Why yuh kin look fur miles around yuh an’ see nothin’ but th’ flat
Level prairie in th’ sunshine kivered in its grassy mat.
That is scenery—yuh kin look there jest as fur as yuh kin see
With no hills a-interposin’, er no rocks, er airy tree.
Oh, I’ve told my husband, Ephrum, that I’d gallavant no more
When ag’in I’d sot my foot on old Newbrasky’s fertile shore.

Then I’m worried so ’bout Rhody, fur she’s missin’ ever’ day
All her lessons on th’ melojun that paw bought fur her last May,
An’ she could perform amazin’; she could play “Old Hundred” nice
An’ another song beginnin’ “Happy Day that Fixed My Ch’ice.”
Yes, th’ singin’ teacher told me as we parted at th’ keers,
He was shore she’d play th’ organ in th’ church ’fore many years.
Now her notion’s highkerflutin’, a pianner she wants now,
An’ her paw sez he will get it soon as he kin sell a cow,
Sez he kin dispose o’ Muly—I jest told him no sir-e-e
Not fur no new-fangled nonsense—Muly’s my cow, an’ you see
He’s jest got a spite ag’in her ’cause she’s got a lengthy tail
An’ in fightin’ skeeters sometimes whicks it in th’ milkin’ pail.
Oh, I’ll be the gladdest mortal when I reach th’ kitchen door
Of that dear old farmhouse standin’ on Newbrasky’s fertile shore!

No, I don’t enjoy th’ city where the wimmen folks is dressed
Monday an’ clean through till Saturday all in their Sunday best.
I jest like to ketch my wrapper up ’n’ pin it ’round my waist,
Carin’ not a single copper if my shoe-string comes unlaced,
Then go out an’ milk old Muly an’ turn out th’ spotted calf
While th’ chickens giggle ’round me an’ the speckled roosters laff,
Then go in th’ summer kitchen, set me down an’ churn a spell,
Till time comes t’ put th’ victuals on an’ ring th’ dinner bell.
Yes, I love th’ peaceful quiet o’ th’ farm where it’s so still,
Nothin’ but th’ ducks a-quackin’ ’n’ pigs a-squealin’ fur their swill,
Nothin’ but th’ geese a-clackin’ ’n’ the bawlin’ o’ th’ cows,
An’ th’ nickerin’ o’ th’ hosses as they’re comin’ t’ th’ house;
Oh, I want t’ leave th’ city with its racket an’ its roar
An’ git back there t’ the silence o’ Newbrasky’s fertile shore!

—Copyright by Harr Wagner Co., San Francisco, and used by kind

permission of author and publisher.

“FUZZY-WUZZY”
By Rudyard Kipling

We’ve fought with many men acrost the seas,

An’ some of ’em was brave an’ some was not:
The paythan an’ the Zulu an’ Burmese;
But the Fuzzy was the finest o’ the lot.
We never got a ha’porth’s change of ’im:
’E squatted in the scrub an’ ’ocked our ’orses,
’E cut our sentries up at Suakim,
An’ ’e played the cat an’ banjo with our forces.
So ’ere’s to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, at your ’ome in the Sowdan;
You’re a poor benighted ’eathen but a first-class fightin’ man;
We give you your certifikit, and if you want it signed
We’ll come an’ have a romp with you whenever you’re inclined.
We took our chanst among the Kyber hills,
The Boers knocked us silly at a mile,
The Burman guv us Irriwaddy chills,
An’ a Zulu impi dished us up in style;
But all we ever got from such as they
Was pop to what the Fuzzy made us swaller;
We ’eld our bloomin’ own, the papers say,
But man for man the Fuzzy knocked us ’oller.
Then ’ere’s to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, an’ the missis and the kid;
Our orders was to break you, an’ of course we went and did.
We sloshed you with Martinis, an’ it wasn’t ’ardly fair;
But for all the odds agin you, Fuzzy-Wuz, you bruk the square.

’E ’asn’t got no papers of ’is own,

’E ’asn’t got no medals nor rewards
So we must certify the skill ’e’s shown
In usin’ of ’is long two-handled swords;
When ’e’s ’oppin’ in an’ out among the bush
With ’is coffin-’eaded shield an’ shovel-spear,
A ’appy day with Fuzzy on the rush
Will last a ’ealthy Tommy for a year.
So ’ere’s to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, an’ your friends which is no more,
If we ’adn’t lost some mess-mates we would help you to deplore;
But give an’ take’s the gospel, an’ we’ll call the bargain fair,
For if you ’ave lost more than us, you crumbled up the square!

’E rushes at the smoke when we let drive,

An’, before we know, ’e’s ’ackin’ at our ’ead;
’E’s all ’ot sand an’ ginger when alive,
An’ ’e’s generally shammin’ when ’e’s dead.
’E’s a daisy, ’e’s a duck, ’e’s a lamb!
’E’s a injia-rubber idiot on the spree,
’E’s the on’y thing that doesn’t care a damn
For the Regiment o’ British Infantree.
So ’ere’s to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, at your ’ome in the Sowdan;
You’re a pore benighted ’eathen but a first-class fightin’ man;
An’ ’ere’s to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, with your ’ayrick ’ead of ’air—
You big black boundin’ beggar—for you bruk a British square.

THOUGHTS FROM BUB

By Leonard G. Nattkemper

My name is Bub, ’cuz papa sed

He’d ruther call me so than Ned.
But mamma calls me ’ist her beau—
W’en I am good, I mean, you know.

So, I ’ist hardly knows my name

I guess—I bet ’ist all the same,
I’m papa’s boy an’ mamma’s dear,
An’ I be glad ’ist ’cuz I’m here.

It’s hard to make a name, I s’pose,

W’en they have used ’bout all o’ those
That they have heard or that they’ve read—
O’ course, there’s more w’en people’s dead.

An’ now I wonder if that I

Will leave my name w’en I must die.
I guess it’s so, ’cuz we ’ist call
Angel’s last name for them all.

I’m glad I’m not an angel yet,

Whose names are less than mine, I bet,
Still it must be nice to see
All the folks that used to be.

Oh, my, I don’t know what to say

About my names, ’cuz every day
My mamma finds a new one, too—
I’m ’fraid she’s left no names for you.

The bestest thing in all this worl’

Is, I’m a boy an’ not a girl,