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I wonder what the story behind this song is. Was it commissioned by Albert Pulitzer? (Albert was Joseph’s younger brother, and founded the New York Morning Journal in 1882.) If not, it certainly is some wonderful propaganda, full of sentimentality: A young newsboy can’t sell all of his papers until he follows advice to sell only the New York Journal.

“Den Yer Don’t Get Stuck—See?”
Words And Music by Alb. H. Fitz, 1886.

Two little “New York” news-boys, one six, the other eight,
Stood on a Broadway corner, into the night so late,
Jimmie, the younger brother, dirty, tattered and torn,
Sat on the curb-stone, crying, down-cast and forlorn,
“What’s de matter, now, Chimmie? Why, don’t yer go home to bed?”
“l’s afraid to go home, Pa’ll lick me if I doesn’t sell out.” he said.
“Oh, no he won’t,” said the brother. “Listen now, Kid, to me,
To-morrer yer sells Journals, and yer don’t git stuck den—see?”

Chorus:
“Never mind now, Chimmie; dare, Kid, don’t yer cry;
I’s sold enough for both, so we’ll go home by and by.
Now, here’s a sandwich for yer, come along wid me,
To-morrer yer sells Journals, and yer don’t git stuck den—see?”

Next morning, up bright and early, Jimmie was there on his stand,
Shouting much louder than ever, nothing but Journal on hand,
By seven he’d sold all but twenty, things were coming his way;
By ten he’d sold every paper: “That’ll do,” said he, “for to-day.”
But while he counted his pennies, a poor little fellow stood by,
Regretting his loss of the morning, and almost ready to cry.
“You say you’s got stuck, eh,” says Jimmie; “listen now, Kid, to me,
To-morrer yer sells Journals, And yer don’t git stuck den—see?”

Chorus:
“Never mind,” says Jimmie; “dere, Kid, don’t yer cry,
I’s made big ‘dough’ to-day, so I’ll help yer out if yer shy;
Come over to de wagon, you can eat on me.
But to-morrer yer sells Journals, and yer don’t git stuck den—see?”

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