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قراءة كتاب Derby Day in the Yukon, and Other Poems of the "Northland"
تنويه: تعرض هنا نبذة من اول ١٠ صفحات فقط من الكتاب الالكتروني، لقراءة الكتاب كاملا اضغط على الزر “اشتر الآن"
اللغة: English
Derby Day in the Yukon, and Other Poems of the "Northland"
الصفحة رقم: 5
It's betwixt us, man t' man!
HEROES
If ye run up ag'in Carnegie, I'd kind o' thankful be
If he gets a-talkin' of heroes, you'd ring in Sandy McPhee.
If he gets a-talkin' of heroes, you'd ring in Sandy McPhee.
Now, Mac don't want no medals—he ain't th' braggin' set;
But what he done back in eighty-one, he's livin' t' tell; you bet!
But what he done back in eighty-one, he's livin' t' tell; you bet!
We was trekin' th' trail t' Forty-Mile; sleepin' in snow-b'ilt caves,
An' the great White Trail we hoofed it on was milestoned jest by graves.
An' the great White Trail we hoofed it on was milestoned jest by graves.
Mac shot on ahead with his dog—itchin' t' make his pile;
Carried his grub-stake on his back. Got there? I should smile!
Carried his grub-stake on his back. Got there? I should smile!
But th' blizzard struck him; th'r he was, him an' his dog alone——
A week passed by—then his grub give out; but he never made no moan.
A week passed by—then his grub give out; but he never made no moan.
His husky died an' he e't his guts; tho't his brain 'ud go——
Then he 'member'd his wife an' kids at home. Who'd hoe their row?
Then he 'member'd his wife an' kids at home. Who'd hoe their row?
Both feet fruz cle'r int' th' bone! Says he "Fac's is fac's";—
Gangrene sot in—black t' th' knees. Then he ups an' eyes his axe:—
Gangrene sot in—black t' th' knees. Then he ups an' eyes his axe:—
"I ain't," says he, "no great M.D., but I kinder calcalate
To meet this here e-mergency as was sent b' a unkind Fate."
To meet this here e-mergency as was sent b' a unkind Fate."
So he humped hisself up ag'in a rock in a little bunch o' trees,
A couple o' hacks with that there axe, an' off went his laigs at th' knees!
A couple o' hacks with that there axe, an' off went his laigs at th' knees!
And he stumped it int' Forty-Mile! What's that? It ain't true?
It's hard t' b'leeve, I kin onderstand, b' a white-livered skunk like you!
It's hard t' b'leeve, I kin onderstand, b' a white-livered skunk like you!
But, if old Skibo is huntin' a hero, ther's somethin' in my mind
Says that, if he don't see McPhee, he must be gol-durn'd blind!
Says that, if he don't see McPhee, he must be gol-durn'd blind!
LOWER-FLAT ANNALS
When we lived in Lower-Flat us folks know'd where we was at;
But them Eastern folks come, puttin' on great style:
Us Old-Timers, we all said we was better we was dead,
F'r th' way they talked an' acted, raised our bile.
But them Eastern folks come, puttin' on great style:
Us Old-Timers, we all said we was better we was dead,
F'r th' way they talked an' acted, raised our bile.
They interduced new dances—thing-a-me-bobs called—"Lance's"——
Where they traipsed up an' down upon th' floor,
A-bowin' and a'scrapin' (lords an' ladies they was apin'),
Th' Red River Jig? 'Twa'n't never danced no more!
Where they traipsed up an' down upon th' floor,
A-bowin' and a'scrapin' (lords an' ladies they was apin'),
Th' Red River Jig? 'Twa'n't never danced no more!
Sniffed at bannock—sniffed at bacon; then, dried apples, they was taken;
An' that good old dish "plum-duff" went out th' door;
Then "part singin'" in th' church—"A Choir" up in a perch——
And a "Tenner" frum th' city. Say, y' should a-heard him roar!
An' that good old dish "plum-duff" went out th' door;
Then "part singin'" in th' church—"A Choir" up in a perch——
And a "Tenner" frum th' city. Say, y' should a-heard him roar!
Then the pretty little crea'cher, boardin' 'round, th' country Teacher;
(Her we fought about f'r dances in th' barn)
She went out o' date; a "perfesser" come t' prate
About ologies an' colleges; things childern couldn't larn.
(Her we fought about f'r dances in th' barn)
She went out o' date; a "perfesser" come t' prate
About ologies an' colleges; things childern couldn't larn.
Then they started "makin' calls," ketched Pa in his over-alls;
But he met 'em with a "How'dy!" at th' door;
The place was in a clutter—Ma, she was churnin' butter,
An' Pa fetch'd 'em in th' kitchen, an' they didn't "call" no more.
But he met 'em with a "How'dy!" at th' door;
The place was in a clutter—Ma, she was churnin' butter,
An' Pa fetch'd 'em in th' kitchen, an' they didn't "call" no more.
That was Mrs. Mumble-Mumps. Say, she did put on humps;
Took her daughter Gwendolina t' furrin lan's,
An' they say paid out shin-plasters t' one o' them Old Masters
F'r t' make a bust of Gwendolina's hands!
Took her daughter Gwendolina t' furrin lan's,
An' they say paid out shin-plasters t' one o' them Old Masters
F'r t' make a bust of Gwendolina's hands!
Gone was th' good old days, and gone th' good old ways
When an invitation meant th' fambly all;
When th' little an' th' big would crowd into th' rig,
An' th' fiddle livened up th' Chris'mus Ball.
When an invitation meant th' fambly all;
When th' little an' th' big would crowd into th' rig,
An' th' fiddle livened up th' Chris'mus Ball.
It was "Welkim, welkim, Boys!" Lots of laughin', lots of noise;
With the babies piled like cordwood on th' floor;
Boys an' girls all dancin'—old folks too got prancin'——
An' th' supper? Say, we'd eat ontil we couldn't hold no more.
With the babies piled like cordwood on th' floor;
Boys an' girls all dancin'—old folks too got prancin'——
An' th' supper? Say, we'd eat ontil we couldn't hold no more.
But them Eastern folks fetched "Style"; changed all that in a while;
Printed tickets told th' folks they was "to-home";
Served the supper frum "a buffey," an' they acted kind o' huffy
When our childern round the parler used t' roam.
Printed tickets told th' folks they was "to-home";
Served the supper frum "a buffey," an' they acted kind o' huffy
When our childern round the parler used t' roam.
House was full of bricky-brack; china tea-pot with a crack,—
An' they sort o' boasted of it; set it out t' common view;
Talked about the'r "Fambly Tree"—good land! why, they know'd that we
Had ninety acres of 'em—scrub-oak bluff—an' poplars too!
An' they sort o' boasted of it; set it out t' common view;
Talked about the'r "Fambly Tree"—good land! why, they know'd that we
Had ninety acres of 'em—scrub-oak bluff—an' poplars too!
Then Miss Mary Ellen Jones (her that come from Pile-o'-Bones)
Lived in nothin' but a mud-shack all her life,
She got puttin' on some airs, an' her nose jes' said, "Who cares?"
And th' District Member picked her f'r a wife.
Lived in nothin' but a mud-shack all her life,
She got puttin' on some airs, an' her nose jes' said, "Who cares?"
And th' District Member picked her f'r a wife.
She did cut a silly caper: had her envelopes an' paper
Painted with a little brand in blue sot up on top;
When th' Flat laugh'd, I'll be blest! she said, "It's Poppa's crest"!
Well! Providence, that year, hailed out their crop.
Painted with a little brand in blue sot up on top;
When th' Flat laugh'd, I'll be blest! she said, "It's Poppa's crest"!
Well! Providence, that year, hailed out their crop.
But Mary Ellen's fall come when they gave th' weddin'-ball;
Invited all th' stylish folks—gave us th' glassy eye;
But says Pa, "Th' next election we'll bust th' damn connection,
F'r th' District Member goes out on th' fly!"
Invited all th' stylish folks—gave us th' glassy eye;
But says Pa, "Th' next election we'll bust th' damn connection,
F'r th' District Member goes out on th' fly!"
He he'er'd that. He wanted votes. So them stylish printed notes