We aint no shakes o' people; we aint up to nothin' new;
But we knows a man what's shammin' and we knows a man what's true.
An' when we heerd that preacher talk 'bout Christian sacrifice
And bearin' burdens for the weak, we valued his advice;
An' we showed it—there wuz nothin' as we thought too good for him;
We poured our cup o' gratitude an' filled it to the brim.
"He aint been near so fort'nate 'n the city where he's went;
Some folks as didn't like him set them sticklers on his scent;
An' the presbytery giv him fits fur trimmin' of his lamp
The way it shined the brightest, an' he jined another camp.
But most men,—leastwise such as him,—I take it, fur my part,
Aint got much devil in their brains when God is in their heart;
An' I'll allow it yet, although they puts me in the stocks,
That religion what is practical's sufficient orthodox.
"Well, thet's the finest preacher as hez struck back here to spout,
An' there never wuz another we cared very much about.
I've heerd o' Beecher's meetings an' such men as John B. Gough;
But fourteen waggon loads druv down to see that preacher off.
We sent him back to college with a fresh supply o' socks,—
Nigh everything a student needs wuz jammed intill that box;
An', preacher, spite of what yourself with all your parts may feel,
Fur me an' Game-leg Templeton that man is our ideel."
THE WHEEL OF MISFORTUNE.
O m'sieu, doan you hask me ma story, doan hask me how dis was happenn;
Dat's one beeg black hole on ma life, w'ere I doan want to look on some more....
Well, he's coom joos' so well for to tole you, all tak' beet tabac firs' and den
A'll tole you what cep' to de pries' a have nevare tole no one before.
Bien, M'sieu; he's come pass joos like dis way; a go out wit' de boys to make lark;
Dare was Armand and Joseph and Louiee, an' we drink on de deefront saloon.
An' we feenish in plac' wit' de music, like one of dose garden or park,
W'ere he's play dose curse wheel for de monee—in Hingleesh dat's wheel of fortune.
He was Saturday night on de week, M'sieu, an' a have ma week's pay on my bourse,
Wit'out w'at we pay for de whiskey—'bout one dollar feefty or less;
An' a'm t'ink a can win me lots monee, and eef a doan win some, of coorse,
A can stop 'fore a lose much, a tell me, but a've pooty beeg hope for success.
Well, Louiee, he's be careful, risk notting, he's laugh w'en a'm buy some paddell,
Armand he's buy some for obligement, he's not half so careful's Louiee.
An' we play dare teel half pas' eleven, an' de meantime she's go pooty well,
Teel Armand he's lose all she's monee, an' shortly 's de same ting wit' me.
But Louiee he's got plaintee of monee, an' he's got plaintee fr'en' on de plac',
An' a'm hask heem for lend me ten dollar, a'm pay wit' good interes', be sure;
He'll tol me he's got more as feefty an' he's give me plusieurs jours de grace,
For Louiee he was know a was hones' for all a was poor of de poor.