We found it at last, and a little shed Where they shut up the lambs at night. We looked in, and seen them huddled thar, So warm and sleepy and white; And THAR sot Little Breeches and chirped, As pert as ever you see, "I want a chaw of terbacker, And that's what's the matter of me."
How did he git thar? Angels. He could never have walked in that storm. They just scooped down and toted him To whar it was safe and warm. And I think that saving a little child, And bringing him to his own, Is a derned sight better business Than loafing around the Throne.
JOHN HAY.
JIM
Say there! P'r'aps Some on you chaps Might know Jim Wild? Well,—no offence: Thar ain't no sense In gettin' riled!
Jim was my chum Up on the Bar: That's why I come Down from up thar, Lookin' for Jim. Thank ye, sir! you Ain't of that crew,— Blest if you are!
Money?—Not much: That ain't my kind; I an't no such. Rum?—I don't mind, Seein' it's you.
Well, this yer Jim, Did you know him?— Jess 'bout your size; Same kind of eyes?— Well, that is strange: Why, it's two year Since he come here, Sick, for a change.
Well, here's to us; Eh? The deuce you say! Dead?— That little cuss?
What makes you star,— You over thar? Can't a man drop 's glass in yer shop