The Island Treasure - John C. Hutcheson

Don’t you recollect it?

“Den, cheer up, Sam! don’t let your sperrits go down;
Dere’s many a gal dat I knows wal am waitin’ fur you in de town!”

The ditty always winds up invariably, as in the old days at sea, with the self-same sharp twang of the chords of the banjo at the end of the last bar, that Sam used to give when sitting in the galley of the poor Denver City.

“Ponk-a-tink-a-tong-tang. P–lang!”

I can hear it now.

Bless you, I can never forget that tune—no, never—brimful as it is with the memory of our ill-fated ship.

The End.