Wall, no! I can’t tell whar he lives,
  Becase he don’t live, you see;
Leastways, he ’s got out of the habit
  Of livin’ like you and me.
Whar have you been for the last three year
  That you haven’t heard folks tell
How Jimmy Bludso passed in his checks
  The night of the Prairie Belle?

He were n’t no saint,—them engineers...