1914-01-27all

One of the Hamilton area’s most individuals in the early 20th century was a resident of Rockton, in the northwest portion of Wentworth Country.

          His real name was Robert Kirkland Kernighan, but across Canada and even internationally, he was better known by his penname, The Khan.

          Back in the 1870’s Kernighan was a reporter with the Hamilton Spectator, and was well-known, not only for his journalism but also for his “Bohemian” flair as regards his appearance. Longish hair and a taste for dramatic capes were part of his persona.

          By 1914, The Khan had published a widely sold collection of his poetry and homespun tales of country living. He no longer had to support himself as a journalist, but made his living by writing poems and short stories in the Wigwam, the old log house, located behind the newer Kernighan residence in Rockton.

          Once he finished his poem or story of the day, he would simply mail it to Hamilton Herald office, for inclusion in his “Chronicles by the Khan” feature. After appearing in the Herald, the Khan’s latest chronicle would appear in newspapers all across Canada.

          A typical Khan chronicle appeared in the Hamilton Herald of January 27, 1914 – a humorous view of a January thaw:

 

HAW, HAW, HAW

          Oh, the squirrels they are laughing and the jay birds they are chaffing,

                    And Daddy Crow is hollering ‘Caw, caw, caw!’

          For look and see old winter’s all busted into splinters

                    By the January thaw – haw, haw, haw.

 

          In a week from now old Bruin he’ll get up to see what’s doin’

                    And the hens they are a-laying in the straw – aw, aw;

          The rooster shakes his noodle too – Cock-a-doodle-doole, do!

                    There’s nothing like a January thaw – haw, haw!

 

          Another splendid omen : the kids are making snow-men,

                    The awf’lest looking objects e’er you saw, aw, aw;

          And the girls with many graces snare the boys and wash their faces –

                    For isn’t it the January thaw – haw, haw?

 

          The groundhog he rolls over in his burrow lined with clover –

                    He’s been living on his paw (see the joke?) – haw, haw, haw!

          So he’s out to stretch his limbs, the nicest of his whims;

                    He’s tickled by the January thaw – haw, haw!

 

          And the old folks chill and wizened in the winter kitchen prisoned,

                    They were up against old Winter and his jaw, aw, aw;

          Now they can have some fun themselves,

and go and sit and sun themselves,

          Delighted with the January thaw – haw, haw!

 

          The Lord He gives us autumntide, He also gives us spring beside,

                    And the winter and the summer are His law, aw, aw;

          Then to overflow the measure He gives us to us a treasure,

                    And we call the gift the January thaw – haw, haw!