Читать книгу Modern American Poetry - Various - Страница 27

Оглавление

“JIM”

Table of Contents

Say there! P’r’aps

Some on you chaps

Might know Jim Wild?

Well—no offense:

Thar ain’t no sense

In gittin’ riled!

Jim was my chum

Up on the Bar:

That’s why I come

Down from up yar,

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 ain’t no such.

Rum? I don’t mind,

Seein’ it’s you.

Well, this yer Jim—

Did you know him?

Jes’ ’bout your size;

Same kind of eyes;—

Well, that is strange:

Why, it’s two year

Since he came here,

Sick, for a change.

Well, here’s to us:

Eh?

The h—— 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 r’ar?

It wouldn’t take

D——d much to break

You and your bar.

Dead!

Poor—little—Jim!

Why, thar was me,

Jones, and Bob Lee,

Harry and Ben—

No-account men:

Then to take him!

Well, thar—Good-by.

No more, sir—I—

Eh?

What’s that you say?

Why, dern it!—sho!—

No? Yes! By Joe!

Sold!

Sold! Why, you limb,

You ornery,

Derned, old,

Long-legged Jim.

PLAIN LANGUAGE FROM TRUTHFUL JAMES

Table of Contents

(Table Mountain, 1870)

Which I wish to remark,

And my language is plain,

That for ways that are dark

And for tricks that are vain,

The heathen Chinee is peculiar,

Which the same I would rise to explain.

Ah Sin was his name;

And I shall not deny,

In regard to the same,

What that name might imply;

But his smile it was pensive and childlike,

As I frequent remarked to Bill Nye.

It was August the third,

And quite soft was the skies;

Which it might be inferred

That Ah Sin was likewise;

Yet he played it that day upon William

And me in a way I despise.

Which we had a small game,

And Ah Sin took a hand:

It was Euchre. The same

He did not understand;

But he smiled as he sat by the table,

With a smile that was childlike and bland.

Yet the cards they were stocked

In a way that I grieve,

And my feelings were shocked

At the state of Nye’s sleeve,

Which was stuffed full of aces and bowers,

And the same with intent to deceive.

But the hands that were played

By that heathen Chinee,

And the points that he made,

Were quite frightful to see—

Till at last he put down a right bower,

Which the same Nye had dealt unto me!

Then I looked up at Nye,

And he gazed upon me;

And he rose with a sigh,

And said, “Can this be?

We are ruined by Chinese cheap labor,”—

And he went for that heathen Chinee.

In the scene that ensued

I did not take a hand,

But the floor it was strewed

Like the leaves on the strand

With the cards that Ah Sin had been hiding,

In the game “he did not understand.”

In his sleeves, which were long,

He had twenty-four packs—

Which was coming it strong,

Yet I state but the facts;

And we found on his nails, which were taper,

What is frequent in tapers—that’s wax.

Which is why I remark,

And my language is plain,

That for ways that are dark

And for tricks that are vain,

The heathen Chinee is peculiar—

Which the same I am free to maintain.

Modern American Poetry

Подняться наверх