Edwin C. Ranck

Edwin C. Ranck was an American lyricist noted for his work in the early 20th century. He was a prolific writer and his lyrics were often characterized by their humor and wit. One of his standout works is the poem 'The Optimist', which reflects his positive outlook on life. Beyond that, little is known about his personal life or career. He remains a somewhat obscure figure in literary history.

English

Edwin C. Ranck

Page 2 of 4

If I Were City Editor.

(After Ben King, Dedicated to E. Jesse Conway.)


If I were City Editor
    And you should come to my cold desk and choke,
And say, "Old man I'm actually dead broke."
    I say, if I were City Editor,
And you should come in deepest grief and woe
    And say, "Oh Lordy let me have the dough,"
I might arise with slow and solemn wink
    And lecture you upon the curse of drink.

If I were City Editor
    And you should come to my hotel and reel,
Clasping my beer to quench the thirst you feel,
    I say if I were City Editor
And you should come in trembling and in fear
    And even hint about licking up that beer,
I'd hit you just one swat, and then,
    I guess I'd have to order one more bier.

Edwin C. Ranck

In Deeper Vein.

The Incubus.


The way was dark within the gloomy church-yard,
    As I wandered through the woodland near the stream,
With slow and heavy tread
    Through a city of the dead,
When suddenly I heard a dreadful scream.

My heart gave frantic leap, as when the roebuck
    Is started by the clamor of the chase,
And I halted all atremble
    In the vain hope to dissemble,
Or cloak the leaden pallor on my face.

'Twas in the ghostly month of grim December,
    The frozen winds were bitter in their cry
And I muttered half aloud
    To that white and silent crowd:
"'Tis a somber month to live in or to die."

And then as if in answer to my whisper,
    Came a voice of some foul fiend from Hell:
"No longer live say I,
    'Tis be...

Edwin C. Ranck

In Kentucky.

(A Response to Judge Mulligan's Famous Toast.)


The moonlight may be softest
    In Kentucky,
And summer days come oftest
    In Kentucky,
But friendship is the strongest
    When the money lasts the longest
Or you sometimes get in wrongest
    In Kentucky.

Sunshine is the brightest
    In Kentucky,
And a right is often rightest
    In Kentucky,
While plain girls are the fewest,
    They work their eyes the truest,
They leave a fellow bluest
    In Kentucky.

All debts are treated lightest
    In Kentucky,
So make your home the brightest
    In Kentucky,
If you have the social entree
    You need never think of pay,
Or, at least, that's what they say
    In Kentucky.

Orators are the proud...

Edwin C. Ranck

Keep Tryin'.

When you're feelin' blue as ink
    An' your spirits 'gin to sink,
Don't be weak an' take a drink
    But
    Keep Tryin'.

There are times when all of us
    Get riled up and start a muss,
But there ain't no use to cuss,
    Just
    Keep Tryin'.

When things seem to go awry,
    And the sun deserts your sky,
Don't sit down somewhere and cry,
    But
    Keep Tryin'.

Everybody honors grit,
    Men who never whine a bit--
Men who tell the world, "I'm IT"
    And
    Keep Tryin'.

Get a hustle on you NOW,
    Make a great, big solemn vow
That you'll win out anyhow,
    And
    Keep Tryin'.

All the world's a battlefield
    Where the true man is revealed,
But the ones who never yie...

Edwin C. Ranck

L'Envoi.

I'm the ghost of that poor gobbler
    Who used to be so great,
They took my poor, neglected bones
    And piled them on a plate.
Reader, shed a kindly tear
    For my unhappy fate.

This is the common lot of all
    Upon the world's great chart;
We've got to leave a pile of bones--
    The stupid and the smart.
Even when Napoleon died
    He left a Bonaparte.

We are merely puppets
    Moving on a string,
And when we think that we are IT,
    The axe will fall--"Gezing!"
O, Grave, where is thy victory?
    O, Death, where is thy sting?

Edwin C. Ranck

Lent.

"Oh lend me five," the young man cried,
    "My money all is spent."
The maiden shook her head and sighed,
    "I'm sorry but it's Lent."

Edwin C. Ranck

Life.

The list is long, the stories read the same;
    Strong mortal man is but a flesh-hued toy;
Some have their ending in a life of shame;
    Others drink deeply from the glass of joy;
Some see the cup dashed dripping from their lip
    Or drinking, find the wine has turned to gall,
While others taste the sweets they fain would sip
    And then Death comes--the sequel to it all.

Edwin C. Ranck

Loving John.

John went into the garden one day
    And found his baby sister at play;

John hit baby with a brick
    And laughed because it made her sick.

John is only two and six
    And loves to do these funny tricks.

Edwin C. Ranck

Modern Maud Muller.

Maud Muller on a summer's day,
    Raked the meadows, sweet with hay.
Nor was this just a grand-stand play;
    Maud got a rake-off, so they say.

Edwin C. Ranck

My Life And Death.

(By A. Turkey Gobbler.)


I'm just a turkey gobbler,
    But I've got a word to say
And I'd like to say it quickly
    Before I pass away,
For I will get it in the neck
    Upon Thanksgiving Day.

I cannot keep from thinking
    Of poor Marie Antoinette,
She lost her head completely,
    But this is what I'll get--
They'll knock the stuffin' out o' me
    Without the least regret.

I've just a few days left now
    Before I meet my fate,
For every turkey gets the axe,
    The little and the great.
There never was a turkey born
    Who didn't fill a plate.

Only three days left now,
    Goodness, how time flies!
It brings a sadness to my heart
    And teardrops to my eyes.
Does every turkey feel that w...

Edwin C. Ranck

Nocturne.

A cat duet.
    A silhouette.
A high brick wall,
    An awful squall.
A moonlit night,
    A mortal fight.
A man in bed,
    Sticks out his head.
Gee Whiz!
    The man has riz.
His arm draws back
    A big bootjack--
A loud swish,
    Squish!
"What's that?"
    A dead cat.

Edwin C. Ranck

Now There's A Coon In The Moon.

There was once an eccentric old coon,
    Who ate dynamite with a spoon,
But when he got loaded
    The powder exploded--
And now there's a coon in the moon.

Edwin C. Ranck

O'Dowd Of The Jefferson Club.

A maddened horse comes down the street,
    With waving mane and flying feet.
The crowd scatters in every direction;
    It looks like a fight at a city election.
A big policeman waves his hands,
    And the air is full of vague commands,
While across the street a retail grocer
    Shrieks to his child as the horse draws closer
When suddenly out of the mad hubbub,
    Steps Jimmie O'Dowd of the Jefferson Club.

Every man there holds his breath--
    To stop the horse means sudden death.
But quick as a flash,
    O'Dowd makes a dash.
With all his might and the horse's mane,
    He brings the old plug to a halt again.
Then every man there doffs his hat
    And cries "Well, what do you think of that?"
Never since the days of Nero
    Has there...

Edwin C. Ranck

Oh Scissors!

I knew a young man so conceited
    That a glance at his face made you heated.
One night, playing whist,
    He was slapped on the wrist,
Because some one said that he cheated.

Edwin C. Ranck

Requiescat.

(Mrs. Jefferson Davis, widow of the President of the Southern Confederacy died October 16, 1906.)


Oh weep fair South, and bow thy head
    For one is gone beyond recall!
Cast flowers on the sainted dead
    Who sleeps beneath a funeral pall.
    To the sound of muffled drum,
    To the sound of muffled drum.

She saw a noble husband's fame
    Grow more enduring with the years,
And in the land his honored name
    Loom brighter through a mist of tears,
    But the sound of muffled drum!
    O the sound of muffled drum!

Our fate is but to meet and part
    Upon Life's dark and troubled sea,
Yet recollection stirs the heart,
    Of men in gray who used to be,
    But the sound of muffled drum!
    O the sound of muffled drum!

Edwin C. Ranck

Saturday On The Farm.

'Tis Saturday morn and all is bright
    By nature's own endowing;
The sun is fiercely giving light,
    And only me--
        Plowing.

Across the river I hear the sound
    Of a boatman slowly rowing;
I have no time to fool around,
    Especially when I'm--
        Hoeing.

And when the dinner hour has come,
    And thoughts of work are fleeting,
I only hear the insects hum,
    Because I'm busy--
        Eating.

At night when all things are at rest,
    Safe in Old Morpheus' keeping,
No troubles do my mind infest,
    For I am soundly--
        Sleeping.

Edwin C. Ranck

Sprig Has Cub.

Sprig, Sprig--Oh lovely Sprig!
    Oh, hast thou cub to stay?
Add wilt the little birdies sig
    Throughout the livelog day?
What bessage dost thou brig to be,
    Fair Lady of by dreabs--
Dost whisper of the babblig brook
    Ad fishig poles ad streabs?

Those happy days have cub agaid,
    The sweetest of the year,
Whed bad cad raise ad appetite
    Ad wholesub thirst for beer.
I've often thought id wudder, Sprig,
    Of how the lily grows,
But the thig that's botherig be dow
    Is how to sprig dew clothes.

Sprig, Sprig--Oh lovely Sprig!
    By thoughts are all of you
I saw a robid yesterday--
    How strange it seebs--ad dew!
I've got a dreadful cold, Fair Sprig,
    Or else I'd sig to thee
Ad air frob Beddelssohd,...

Edwin C. Ranck

Stylish.

There once was an old crocodile
    Who lived on the banks of the Nile.
One day, for a meal,
    He swallowed a wheel,
And ate for dessert, an automobile.

Edwin C. Ranck

Page 2 of 4