I’m Grizzly Jim o’ Nebraska! Hain’t ye heerd o’ him?
An’ the human dies an’ the grizzly that crosses Grizzly Jim.
Now, I like yer flower, young feller. Confound yer Britisher look:
Don’t yer know what I mean? What I’ve liked I’ve allus took.
Jest you hand over that flower as humble as humble can be,
Or this’ll make winders and doors where yer won’t like sich to be.
Laughin’. By thunder! Dog done it, ye’re grit, an’ I love yer spunk.
Come, tip us yer flipper, stranger; I reckon yer not such a skunk.
Why that was the grip of a man, yer a fellow the reds ’ud fear,
Let’s have a drink. Don’t? Moses! Don’t! Why ain’t that queer,