Читать книгу The Adventures of Big-Foot Wallace (Illustrated Edition) - John Crittenden Duval - Страница 5

BY DR. F. O. TICKNOR.

His life is past the forties—

His length is six foot two—

And both his feet import he’s

Not a fly to shoe!

They dubbed him Big-Foot Wallace

Down in Mexico,

As Liliput would call his

Brobdignag, you know.

Straight as a rifle-rammer,

And lightly too he stands,

Though weighted with sledge-hammer

In each of his great hands!

Grave as his own gun-barrel,

Yet gracious with the grim,

And when we pick a quarrel

We mustn’t pick at him!

A plant of the “red ripper,”

Whose level eye-light means

A charge of Chili pepper

Ballasted with “Beans.”

A loyal soul! I’ll pound it

As ever ruled the ranch;

And so the Doodles found it,

And also the Comanche!

And so the little Greasers!

They say he used to catch

A score of their Mestizoes

To grease his bullet-patch!

May they be bothered wholly—

In body and in soul!

For the mills are grinding slowly

And Wallace takes the toll.

His features so resemble

His sire’s, a cycle back,

That curs and tyrants tremble

To come upon his track!

Here’s Hope’s un-Butlered chalice;

Here’s loyalty’s last wine!

And here’s—To William Wallace

The Second, by his—“Sign!”