| Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900. |
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| 746. “Jim” |
| | | By Francis Bret Harte |
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| SAY there! P’r’aps | |
| Some on you chaps | |
| Might know Jim Wild? | |
| Well,—no offense: | |
| Thar aint no sense | 5 |
| In gittin’ riled! | |
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| Jim was my chum | |
| Up on the Bar: | |
| That ’s why I come | |
| Down from up yar, | 10 |
| Lookin’ for Jim. | |
| Thank ye, sir! You | |
| Ain’t of that crew,— | |
| Blest if you are! | |
| Money? Not much: | 15 |
| That ain’t my kind; | |
| I ain’t no such. | |
| Rum? I don’t mind, | |
| Seein’it ’syou. | |
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| Well, this yer Jim,— | 20 |
| Did you know him? | |
| Jes’ ’bout your size; | |
| Same kind of eyes;— | |
| Well, that is strange: | |
| Why, it ’stwo year | 25 |
| Since he came here, | |
| Sick, for a change. | |
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| Well, here ’s to us: | |
| Eh? | |
| The h—— you say! | 30 |
| Dead? | |
| That little cuss? | |
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| What makes you star’, | |
| You over thar? | |
| Can’t a man drop | 35 |
| ’S glass in yer shop | |
| But you must r’ar? | |
| It would n’t take | |
| D——d much to break | |
| You and your bar. | 40 |
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| Dead! | |
| Poor—little—Jim! | |
| Why, thar was me, | |
| Jones, and Bob Lee, | |
| Harry and Ben,— | 45 |
| No-account men: | |
| Then to take him! | |
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| Well, thar—Good-by— | |
| No more, sir—I— | |
| Eh? | 50 |
| What ’s that you say? | |
| Why, dern it!—sho— | |
| No? Yes! By Joe! | |
| Sold! | |
| Sold! Why, you limb, | 55 |
| You ornery, | |
| Derned old | |
| Long-legged Jim. | |
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