Jim

Say there! P’r’aps Some on you chaps Might know Jim Wild? Well,—no offence: Thar ain’t no sense In gettin’ riled! Jim was my chum Up on the Bar: That ’s why I come Down from up thar, Lookin’ for Jim. Thank ye, sir! you Ain’t of that crew,— Blest if you are! Money?—Not much: That ain’t my kind; I an’t no such. Rum?—I don’t mind, Seein’ it ’s you. Well, this yer Jim, Did you know him?— Jess ’bout your size; Same kind of eyes?— Well, that is strange: Why, it ’s two year Since he come here, Sick, for a change. Well, here ’s to us; Eh? The deuce you say! Dead?— That little cuss? What makes you star,— You over thar? Can’t a man drop ’s glass in yer shop But you must rar’? It wouldn’t take Derned much to break You and your bar. Dead! Poor—little—Jim! —Why, there was me, Jones, and Bob Lee, Harry and Ben,— No-account men: Then to take him! Well, thar—Good-bye,— No more, sir,—I— Eh? What ’s that you say?— Why, dern it!—sho!— No? Yes! By Jo! Sold! Sold! Why you limb, You ornery, Derned old Long-leggèd Jim!