Till I got to readin' Roarin Camp
An' about that Truthful James,
Buffalo Bill an' Bloody Gulch,
An' pistol-an'-poker games,
An' the pleasure o' shootin' justices
An' sheriffs deeputies
An' the oncomplainin' public
An' the gineral mob likewise.
Then I—wich my name is Dangerous Jake—
(Leastwise when took that way)
Sloped unappreciative Brown
An' follered the wake o' day.
An' here am I in Bismarck Jug!
Fer an inoffensive spree—
Puttin' some buckshot inter the leg
Of a pagan-tail Chinee.
Wot is the good of our churches
Ef the Mongol's goin' ter rule?
An' how kin ye shoot the redskin
When they're givin' him beef and school?
What are the Rockies comin' too?
Well, I've acted fer the best.
But the only remark I've got to make, is—
The Occident's not the West
THE BATTLE OF LAPRAIRIE. (1691.)
A BALLAD.
I.
That was a brave old epoch,
Our age of chivalry,
When the Briton met the Frenchman
At the fight of La Prairie;
And the manhood of New England,
And the Netherlander true
And Mohawks sworn, gave battle
To the Bourbon's lilied blue.