Thomas R. Lounsbury, ed. (1838–1915). Yale Book of American Verse. 1912.
Francis Bret Harte 1836–1902
Francis Bret Harte202 “Jim”
S
Some on you chaps
Might know Jim Wild?
Well,—no offense:
Thar ain’t no sense
In gittin’ riled!
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! 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. Eh? The h— you say! Dead? That little cuss? 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. Poor—little—Jim! Why, thar was me, Jones, and Bob Lee, Harry and Ben,— No-account men: Then to take him! 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.