Jim's hand? cripes! 'Twas a reg'lar prize;
Luck had turned—he had aces t' burn!
But he sot there starin' with bloodshot eyes,
An' what I saw then gev' me quite a turn——
F'r th' divil's own luck was at his heel,
He'd an extra card—'twas a clear MISDEAL!
I let my hand t' th' trigger go——
Jim's throat gev' a sickish kind o' laugh;
An' he says: "I'm dry as h—ll, so,
W'ot d'ye say to a shandy-gaff?
An'," says Jim, "I'll hev' a bite t' eat;
Pearl, fetch me a sangwich o' bread an' meat"!
I felt like shootin' that gol-durn Jim,
Losin' th' game with a stake like that;
Wanted t' up an' lambaste him
Chawin' of meat like a hungry cat:
When, all at onct, sort o' swallerin' hard,
I perceives Jim eatin' that extra card!
"Locoed!" yelled Yankee, quittin' th' game,
Handin' over th' stakes. But Slippery Jim
Hunchin' up of his powerful frame
Giv' a kind of a grin o' hate at him.
"D——n y'r gold!" he says, "Slippery Jim to-night
Will begin t' live like a man born white!"
Now, perhaps you'd say the game warn't square——
An' some might call it a bunko trick;
But if you loved a ga'l an' she stood there,
Wouldn't y' swap souls with old Nick
Rather'n let her go t' Yankee Pete
An' play her game on Bonanza street?
No, th' story ain't never bin told afore. I saw it finished—saw it began. Saw it play'd out on th' dance-hall floor. It's betwixt us, man t' man!
HEROES
If ye run up ag'in Carnegie, I'd kind o' thankful be
If he gets a-talkin' of heroes, you'd ring in Sandy McPhee.