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!