Uncles Josh's Punkin Centre Stories [27]
alongside of each other, and the unyuns got into the pertaters' eyes and they couldn't see to grow. Oh, yes, lots of fun down home onct in a while. I calculate I've got the funnyest lot of chickens you ever heerd tell on. I've got sixty old hens and they lay an egg every day; but they don't lay any at nite, cos when nite comes every one of them is roosters. I had one old hen, she went into the woodshed and sot down on the ax and tried to hatch-it. I had another one sottin' on a door knob, tryin' to hatch out a house and lot, but she didn't. While she wuz a-sottin' there along cum a rooster, and he sed, "We're having a little party down behind the barn; will you dance with me this set?" and she sed, "No, sir, I'm engaged to his nobs for this set." Gosh, I wuz afraid to go out in the barnyard one while, cos one day when I wuz out thar I heerd a hen say to a rooster, "Thar's that old gray-headed cuss we've bin a-layin' fer."
Guess that's my train; s'pose I'll have to be a-goin'; good-bye; cum down and see me some time if you kin, ev'ry one of ye; cum down about apple-butter time and jist butt in--good bye.
Yosemite Jim, or a Tale of the Great White Death
YOSEMITE JIM wuz the name he had, And he came from no one knowed whar; Quiet, easy goin' sort of a cuss, And wuz reckoned on the squar'. Ridin' a route for the Wells Fargo folks May have made him stern and grim; But thar wasn't a man that crossed the divide But 'ud swar by Yosemite Jim.
He wa'n't one of the regular sort What you'd meet thar any day, But as near as the camp could figure it out, In a show down he'd likely stay. A shambling, awkward figure, Rawboned, tall and slim, And his schaps and togs in general Jist looked like they'd fell on him.
I wuz somewhat of a tenderfoot then, Hadn't jist got the lay of the land; Thar wuz a good many things in them thar parts As I couldn't quite understand. But I took a likin' to Yosemite Jim, Wuz with him on my very first trick; And from that time on I stuck to him Like a kitten to a good warm brick.
Our headquarters then wuz the valley camp, It wuz down by the redwood way, With Chaparel across the spur, 'Bout fifty miles away. Wall, what I'm goin' to tell you, pard, Happened thar whar the trail runs into the sky; And if it hadn't a-bin fer Yosemite Jim, Wall, I'd be countin' my chips on high.
The galoot that wuz punchin' the broncos fer me Wuz a greaser from down Monterey; And Jim used to say, "Keep your eye on him, pard, I don't think he's cum fer to stay; His eyes are too shifty and yeller, And his face is sullen and hard; And 'taint that so much as a feelin' I have; Anyhow, keep your eye on him, pard."
One day when the mercury wuz way out of sight, And the frost it wuz on every nail, With jist the mail sack and specie box, The greaser and I hit the trail. We picked two passengers up at Big Pine, And while the broncos were changed that day I noticed them havin' a sneakin' chat With the greaser from down Monterey.
Did you ever hear tell of the Great White Death, That creeps down the mountain side, Leavin' behind it a ghastly track Whar those who have met it died? Wall, pard, as true as I'm a-livin', No man wants to see it twice; White and grim as a funeral shroud, A mass of mist and ice.
Wall, we hadn't got far from the Big Pine relay When my hair it commenced to rise, For I saw across by the Lone Bear spur A cloud of most monstrous size. And the greaser acted sort of peculiar, And the broncos commenced to neigh; Wall, some thoughts went through my mind jist then I won't forgit till my dyin' day.
In less time than it takes to tell it, We were into the Great White Death, With its millions of frozen snowflakes A-takin' away our breath. And jist then somethin' happened, pard, The greaser from down Monterey Tried to sneak off with the specie box, Along with the passengers from Big Pine
Guess that's my train; s'pose I'll have to be a-goin'; good-bye; cum down and see me some time if you kin, ev'ry one of ye; cum down about apple-butter time and jist butt in--good bye.
Yosemite Jim, or a Tale of the Great White Death
YOSEMITE JIM wuz the name he had, And he came from no one knowed whar; Quiet, easy goin' sort of a cuss, And wuz reckoned on the squar'. Ridin' a route for the Wells Fargo folks May have made him stern and grim; But thar wasn't a man that crossed the divide But 'ud swar by Yosemite Jim.
He wa'n't one of the regular sort What you'd meet thar any day, But as near as the camp could figure it out, In a show down he'd likely stay. A shambling, awkward figure, Rawboned, tall and slim, And his schaps and togs in general Jist looked like they'd fell on him.
I wuz somewhat of a tenderfoot then, Hadn't jist got the lay of the land; Thar wuz a good many things in them thar parts As I couldn't quite understand. But I took a likin' to Yosemite Jim, Wuz with him on my very first trick; And from that time on I stuck to him Like a kitten to a good warm brick.
Our headquarters then wuz the valley camp, It wuz down by the redwood way, With Chaparel across the spur, 'Bout fifty miles away. Wall, what I'm goin' to tell you, pard, Happened thar whar the trail runs into the sky; And if it hadn't a-bin fer Yosemite Jim, Wall, I'd be countin' my chips on high.
The galoot that wuz punchin' the broncos fer me Wuz a greaser from down Monterey; And Jim used to say, "Keep your eye on him, pard, I don't think he's cum fer to stay; His eyes are too shifty and yeller, And his face is sullen and hard; And 'taint that so much as a feelin' I have; Anyhow, keep your eye on him, pard."
One day when the mercury wuz way out of sight, And the frost it wuz on every nail, With jist the mail sack and specie box, The greaser and I hit the trail. We picked two passengers up at Big Pine, And while the broncos were changed that day I noticed them havin' a sneakin' chat With the greaser from down Monterey.
Did you ever hear tell of the Great White Death, That creeps down the mountain side, Leavin' behind it a ghastly track Whar those who have met it died? Wall, pard, as true as I'm a-livin', No man wants to see it twice; White and grim as a funeral shroud, A mass of mist and ice.
Wall, we hadn't got far from the Big Pine relay When my hair it commenced to rise, For I saw across by the Lone Bear spur A cloud of most monstrous size. And the greaser acted sort of peculiar, And the broncos commenced to neigh; Wall, some thoughts went through my mind jist then I won't forgit till my dyin' day.
In less time than it takes to tell it, We were into the Great White Death, With its millions of frozen snowflakes A-takin' away our breath. And jist then somethin' happened, pard, The greaser from down Monterey Tried to sneak off with the specie box, Along with the passengers from Big Pine