I tried to act indifferent, when I saw the women come,
There was Ryan's wife, whose children shivered and starved at home,
He'd paid me, that same morning, his last ten cents for drink,
And when I saw her poor, pale face, it made me start and shrink.
There was Tom Eliot's mother, wrapped in her widow's veil,
And the wife of Brown, the merchant, my whiskey made him fail;
And my old playmate, Mary, she stood amid the band,
Her white cheek bore a livid mark, made by her husband's hand.
It all just overcome me; I yielded then and there,
And Elder Sharpe, he raised his hand, and offered up a prayer.
I know that he forgave me, I couldn't help but think
Of his own boy, his only son, whom I had taught to drink.
So I have come back, father, to the home that gave me birth,
And I will plow and sow and reap the gifts of mother earth.
Yet, if I prove a good son now, and worthy of you two,
My heart is heavy with the wrongs I never can undo.
SHE'S COMING ON THE FREIGHT.
Or, The joint Keeper's Dilemma.
Say, Billy, git ten two-by-four
'Nd twenty six-by-eight,
'Nd order from the hardware store
Ten sheets of boiler plate,
'Nd 'phone the carpenter to come
Most mighty quick--don't wait,
For there's a story on the streets
She's coming on the freight.
O, many years I've carried on
My business in this town;
I've helped elect its officers
From mayor Dram clear down;
I've let policemen, fer a wink,
Get jags here every day;
Say, Billy, get a move on, fer
She's headed right this way.
Pages:
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370