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THE ALABAMA DUEL
"Young chaps, give ear, the case is clear. You, Silas
Fixings, you
Pay Mister Nehemiali Dodge them dollars as you're due.
You are a bloody cheat,—you are. But spite of all your
tricks, it
Is not in you Judge Lynch to do. No! nohow you can
fix it!"
Thus spake Judge Lynch, as there he sat in Alabama's
forum,
Around he gazed, with legs upraised upon the bench before
him;
And, as he gave this sentence stern to him who stood
beneath,
Still with his gleaming bowie-knife he slowly picked his
teeth.
It was high noon, the month was June, and sultry was the
air,
A cool gin-sling stood by his hand, his coat hung o'er his
chair;
All naked were his manly arms, and shaded by his hat,
Like an old senator of Rome that simple Archon sat.
"A bloody cheat?—Oh, legs and feet!" in wrath young
Silas cried;
And springing high into the air, he jerked his quid
aside.
"No man shall put my dander up, or with my feelings
trifle,
As long as Silas Fixings wears a bowie-knife and rifle."
"If your shoes pinch," replied Judge Lynch, "you'll very,
soon have ease;
I'll give you satisfaction, squire, in any way you please;
What are your weapons?—knife or gun?—at both I'm
pretty spry!"
"Oh! 'tarnal death, you're spry, you are?" quoth Silas;
"so am I!"