MEAN SAM GREEN
Old Sam Green!
What? Mean?
I reckin that a meaner man was skercely ever
seen.
People said he’d skin a fly for sake of hide an’
grease;
He wouldn’t grin—it stretched the skin, an’
he begredged the crease.
Sort o’ squirmed when asked to set—didn’t
want the chance!
We wondered why; we found at last’twas
jest to save his pants.
Never used to shave himself, never combed his
hair;
Used to sort o’ hate to wash, account o’ wear
and tear.
Never beau-ed the wimmen’round, never spent
a cent,
’Cept the time he bought a girl an ounce of
pepperment.
Alius kind o’ groaned o’ that; said the dratted
dunce
Set an’ chawnked an’ chawnked an’ chawnked
an’ et it all to once.
Said he learned a lesson then to last him all
through life;
Said’twould take a millionaire to feed a hearty
wife.
So he planned an’ worked an’ saved an’ grubbed
his little patch,
Allowed he’d ruther plug along, jest like he
was, “old bach.”
Sam, though, shifted later on—the pesky mean
old goat—
He struck a find; she’d had a shock that par-
alyzed her throat! .
Still, she worked most dretful spry—didn’t
need no spurs—
Only “out” that woman had was that ’ere
throat of hers. 1
Married her? you bet he did! Straight—right
off the reel!
Reckoned that she couldn’t eat a reel, good
hearty meal.
Figgered he’d git lots of work an’ only feed her
slim;
Wife, though, wopsed it t’other way an’ got
the laugh on him!
I reckin that a madder man was skercely ever
seen,
Than Green,
Old mean Sam Green.
Soon’s she fairly placed her feet, she called the
doctors in,
An’ they commenced to work on her an’ tap
old Green for tin.
He swore an’ howled, but she was boss—she
run the whole concern—
She said she’d morgidge all he owned to cure
that throat of her’n.
The high-priced doctors far an’ near come
hustlin’ to the place,
An’ fubbed an’ fussed an’ then discussed that
reely puzzlin’ case.
An’ each performed his little stunt with all his
skill an’ will,
An’ said that time would do the rest—an’ then
put in his bill.
Wal, Land o’ Goshen, Sam took on as though
they drawed his blood.
He’d hitch and hunch his wallet out as though
’twas stuck in mud.
Their nuss was quite a hand to tog; she used
to say to us
She wished that corsets laced as tight’s the
straps on that old puss.
Mis’ Green at last got down reel slim; one
night—so nuss, she said,
Old Sam come creepin’, creakin’ in; set down
‘longside the bed.
He stooped an’ poked around a spell, picked up
Lucindy’s shoe,
An’ then—wal, nuss she vums an’ vows this
’ere is honest true:
He routed’round the fireplace an’ got a cinder-
coal,
An’ went to figgerin’ up expense, right there
on ’Cindy’s sole.
He talked the items right out loud, but ’Cindy
didn’t kick
So long’s he only reckoned things she’d had
while she was sick.
But when he got to projickin’ ’bout what
’twould prob’ly cost
To bury her in decent shape, he sort o’ up an’
crossed
The “mean-man” line, the “tarnal mean” an’
even “gaul-durned mean”—
He formed a brand-new class himself; jest
him alone, Sam Green,
Stands serene!
“Green mean,”
Signifies the meanest man that ever ye have
seen.
Die? What! ’Cindy up an’ die? You bet
she didn’t die!
Got so mad to hear him talk she flew right up
sky-high.
Hopped like sixty out o’bed, as hearty’s Paddy’s
goat,
An’ that ’ere kink—whatever’twas—it came
right out her throat.
An’ talk? She hadn’t talked for years, but
soon’s she got her breath,
I swan to man, I reely b’lieve she talked old
Green to death.
For ’fore she’d trod around enough to wear the
coal marks out,
Old Sam curled up an’ passed away. Some
said there wa’n’t much doubt
He’d reely died two years before, but hadn’t
let folks know,
Because these undertakin’ chaps tuck on ex-
penses so.
Perk Todd was tellin’ down t’ the store he had
a dream las’ week—
He dreamed he got in Paradise! Must been
a denied close’ squeak!
Wal, Perk he says an angel there was showin’
him around,
“At last,” says Perk, “I ups an’ asks how
’twas I hadn’t found
No people there from where I’d lived. The
angel says, says he:
‘Here bub’ A cherub scooted up. ‘Go git
the storehouse key.’”
Says Perk: “The angel took me in. An’
where we were, it’peared
That’bout a billion boxed-up things was there
all nicely tiered.
The angel said, ‘When folks on earth do any-
thing that’s small
Their souls git squizzled bit by bit; an’ when
they die, then all
The little, teenty souls that come are packed in
here, ye know,
Jes’ same’s they box tomater plants to giv’ ’em
time to grow.’
He hunted’round an’ found a box. ‘There,’
finally said he,
‘We’ve got about as sing’lar thing as ever ye
will see.’
Inside that box was nested dus’ a dozen boxes
more;
The last box was the smallest box I ever saw
before,
An’ in it was a teenty speck. ‘Is that a soul?’
says I.
‘Oh, no,’ said he, ‘the thing you see’s the eye-
brow of a fly.
You couldn’t see the soul that’s there, to save
your blessed neck,
Because it’s one ten-millionth part as big’s
that leetle speck.
In fact it is the smallest soul that we have ever
seen;
The label says’—he squinted hard—‘it’s one
old Sam’wel Green.’
All serene,
Sam Green
Is ticketed ‘The Limit; Number billion-umpty
steen.’”