Imitated

Say! you feller! You-- With that spade and the pick!-- What do you 'pose to do On this side o' the crick? Goin' to tackle this claim? Well, I reckon You'll let up ag'in, purty quick!

No bluff, understand,-- But the same has been tried, And the claim never panned-- Or the fellers has lied,-- For they tell of a dozen that tried it, And quit it most onsatisfied.

The luck's dead ag'in it!-- The first man I see That stuck a pick in it Proved that thing to me,-- For he sort o' took down, and got homesick, And went back whar he'd orto be!

Then others they worked it Some--more or less, But finally shirked it, In grades of distress,-- With an eye out--a jaw or skull busted, Or some sort o' seriousness.

The last one was plucky-- He wasn't afeerd, And bragged he was "lucky," And said that "he'd heerd A heap of bluff-talk," and swore awkard He'd work any claim that he keered!

Don't you strike nary lick With that pick till I'm through; This-here feller talked slick And as peart-like as you! And he says: "I'll abide here As long as I please!" But he didn't.... He died here-- And I'm his disease!