Toledo Slim
The Whiz Bang has received so many requests for “Toledo Slim” that we will herewith publish this virile poem of the underworld.
We were seated in a pool room on a cold December day,
Telling jokes and funny stories just to pass the time away;
When the door was softly opened and a form walked slowly in;
All the boys soon stopped their kidding when they saw Toledo Slim.
But a different man was he and they hardly knew the guy;
He no longer wore the glad rags he had worn in days gone by.
He took a look around him as he crept into the place.
And we saw a look of hunger on his dirty, grimy face.
“Hello, Slim, old pal!” said Boston Red; “you’re lookin’ on the pork;
Why, you used to be the swellest guy of any in New York.
Come, tell us, Slim, what happened that you are on the bum?”
The crowd then gathered ’round him and the story Slim begun.
’Tis true I’m on the bum, boys; I’m on the hog for fair.
But in the past I led them all, my roll was always there.
I never turned an old pal down, I spent my money free.
And all the sports along the line were glad to stick with me.
I was an all ’round hustler, I trimmed the birdies right.
I never shied at any game when greenbacks were in sight,
But one sad night I met my fate; I fell like many more,
That’s how I’m on the bum, boys, played out and feeling sore;
It happened just five years ago, if I remember right,
I trimmed a sucker for a roll and felt most out of sight.
I took a stroll along the line; “set up” for all the boys,
And just to pass the time away I dropped in Kid McCoy’s.
And while I sat there drinking, getting on a mighty stew,
A dead swell dame came in the place and sat beside me, too.
I asked her if she’d have a drink, she sweetly said she would,
And as I gazed into her eyes, I thought I understood.
Perhaps you’ll think me fickle, pals, but it isn’t any dream;
For when it comes to peachy looks that “Tommy” was the queen.
We “chewed the rag” for quite a while, I “shot the con” for fair,
(And when it comes to spreading salve, you may gamble I was there.)
I told her I would place her in a finely furnished flat,
And when the joint closed up that night I had my girlie pat.
Next day we saw the parson and paid a month’s rent down.
And then she went a hustling for work around the town.
She’d get up in the morning, go out and get the grub;
While I lay in my downy bed so humble and so snug.
But if the day proved gloomy, then in the house we’d stop.
She’d gather ’round the lay-out while I cooked the fragrant hop.
When winter drew around at last and things were going fine,
We had the swellest flat of any couple on the line.
One night I had a job to do, the richest home in town;
I got my tools and started out with my pal, Jackie Brown.
We never thought we’d get a blow, the thing looked like a pipe.
With all the folks a-sleeping and not a soul in sight,
We put the goods into a sheet and started down the block.
And just as luck would have it we bumped into a cop.
We dropped the swag quick as a flash and started on the run,
With the copper close behind us, a-shooting off his gun.
But we were fleet as greyhounds and were halfway down the street,
When a bullet hit me in the leg and I knew that I was beat.
The copper stopped to handcuff me while Jackie got away,
And I never saw his face again for many and many a day.
Well, boys, I know you’ll guess the rest; they made short work of me.
They sent me up the river to do my little “V.”
But still I did not worry; I thought my girl would stick
And keep the flat a-going while I did my little trick;
I never thought she’d turn me down in 40,000 years;
But when I think of what came off it almost brings the tears.
At last the long years passed away and one bright summer day
I started back to old New York so happy and so gay,
But when I reached my little flat I found my girl had flown—
She had run away with Jackie and left me all alone.
It was then I took to boozing and went from bad to worse;
I tried to drown my sorrow and forget the bitter curse,
But the memory of that pretty face was always on my mind,
So I searched the city over, but no trace of her could find.
I roamed the streets at leisure seeking vainly for my prey,
Looking for the man that ruined me and stole my girl away.
I swore that I’d have his life for the trick that he had done.
So I searched the country everywhere, knowing well my time would come.
One day I met a wise guy who knew my pal full well.
He said he was in ’Frisco and living mighty swell.
The girl had died in Denver of consumption, so he said,
Where my former pal had left her to starve from want of bread.
It happened at a time, boys, when I didn’t have a cent;
So I beat my way to Frisco with my mind on vengeance bent.
One foggy day on Market Street I met him sure as fate;
He tried to get the drop on me, but was a moment late.
I sent a bullet crashing into the traitor’s brain,
And then I made my getaway and “glommed” an eastbound train.
That’s all there is to tell, boys; I’m like the rest of bums,
I’ve lost all my ambition and don’t care what becomes—
And as he finished talking, from his hip he drew a gun.
In a moment came a sharp report—his grafting days were done.
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