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Leprechaun, v. 1, issue 3, Summer 1942

Page 3

LEPRECHAUN     3

IF
by Don GUALTERIO

If you can keep your head when those around you
Are turning theirs from blinding newsstand racks;
If you can buy a mag whose hues confound you
By shrieking from the science-fiction stacks;
If you can face your friends and never worry
At stares and gasps that come from them
When you are seen upon your homeward scurry,
Exhibiting the cover's B. E. M.;

If you can make a heap of all your  money,
And risk it, launching one more mimeo-mag;
If you can trade your 'zine, and think it funny
When you receive their ugly, worthless rag;
If you can stand to hear the gossip spoken,
Fashioned by knaves to knife a rival's back;
Or watch that mag that you gave life to, broken
And jibed to death by every jealous hack;

If you can meet with Widner and with Unger
And treat those two imposters to a drink;
If you can face them and not lose your hunger,
But say, "I'll eat with you -- I'm pickled tink!"
If you can talk with editors and writers,
And safely keep your scalp, your soul, and purse;
If you can yawn and just ignore the blighters,
And not commit man-slaughter there, or worse

If you can strain your eyes and nerve and sinew
To serve in scanning monthly without fail
Each story in each mag, though something in you
Revolts against the staleness of the tale;
If you can do all this each leisure minute,
And find a place to file mags by the ton,
Yours is the World and all the planets in it,
And -- which is more -- you'll be a Fan, my son!

Space Flight I
by LOUIS de GENESTE

The engine hummed, as the tubes began to warm --
Misty clouds o'er the stars began to form
But the Gun was set, its gleaming barrel aimed --
A thunderclap was heard while the blackened muzzle flamed.
-- So departed the first ship to Mars.

The silvery hull from friction glowing
Mocks the crimson gases swiftly flowing.
Now far behind, in the Coldness of Space
Gleams Earth -- Abode of the Human Race
As we reach longingly toward the stars.

Saving...

LEPRECHAUN 3 IF by Don GUALTERIO If you can keep your head when those around you Are turning theirs from blinding newsstand racks; If you can buy a mag whose hues confound you By shrieking from the science-fiction stacks; If you can face your friends and never worry At stares and gasps that come from them When you are seen upon your homeward scurry, Exhibiting the cover's B. E. M.; If you can make a heap of all your money, And risk it, launching one more mimeo-mag; If you can trade your 'zine, and think it funny When you receive their ugly, worthless rag; If you can stand to hear the gossip spoken, Fashioned by knaves to knife a rival's back; Or watch that mag that you gave life to, broken And jibed to death by every jealous hack; If you can meet with Widner and with Unger And treat those two imposters to a drink; If you can face them and not lose your hunger, But say, "I'll eat with you -- I'm pickled tink!" If you can talk with editors and writers, And safely keep your scalp, your soul, and purse; If you can yawn and just ignore the blighters, And not commit man-slaughter there, or worse If you can strain your eyes and nerve and sinew To serve in scanning monthly without fail Each story in each mag, though something in you Revolts against the staleness of the tale; If you can do all this each leisure minute, And find a place to file mags by the ton, Yours is the World and all the planets in it, And -- which is more -- you'll be a Fan, my son! Space Flight I by LOUIS de GENESTE The engine hummed, as the tubes began to warm -- Misty clouds o'er the stars began to form But the Gun was set, its gleaming barrel aimed -- A thunderclap was heard while the blackened muzzle flamed. -- So departed the first ship to Mars. The silvery hull from friction glowing Mocks the crimson gases swiftly flowing. Now far behind, in the Coldness of Space Gleams Earth -- Abode of the Human Race As we reach longingly toward the stars.