Jack And Me.

Shine!—All right; here y'are, boss! Do it for jest five cents. Get 'em fixed in a minute,— That is, 'f nothing perwents. Set your foot right there, sir. Mornin's kinder cold,— Goes right through a feller, When his coat's a gittin' old. Well, yes,—call it a coat, sir, Though 't aint much more 'n a tear. Git another!—I can't, boss; Ain't got the stamps to spare. "Make as much as most on 'em!" Yes; but then, yer see, They've only got one to do for,— There's two on us, Jack and me. Him?—Why, that little feller With a curus lookin' back, Sittin' there on the gratin', Warmin' hisself,—that's Jack. Used to go round sellin' papers, The cars there was his lay; But he got shoved off of the platform Under the wheels one day. Fact,—the conductor did it,— Gin him a reg'lar throw,— He didn't care if he killed him; Some on 'em is just so. He's never been all right since, sir, Sorter quiet and queer; Him and me goes together, He's what they call cashier. Style, that 'ere, for a boot-black,— Made the fellers laugh; Jack and me had to take it, But we don't mind no chaff. Trouble!—not much, you bet, boss! Sometimes, when biz is slack, I don't know how I'd manage If 't wa'n't for little Jack. You jest once orter hear him: He says we needn't care How rough luck is down here, sir, If some day we git up there. All done now,—how's that, sir? Shines like a pair of lamps. Mornin'!—Give it to Jack, sir, He looks after the stamps.