The Complete Works of James Whitcomb Riley in ten volumes |
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 | The Complete Works of James Whitcomb Riley |  |
1298
A MAN BY THE NAME OF BOLUS
A man by the name of Bolus—(all 'at we'll ever know
Of the stranger's name, I reckon—and I'm kind o' glad it's so!)—
Got off here, Christmas morning, looked 'round the town, and then
Kind o' sized up the folks, I guess, and—went away again!
Of the stranger's name, I reckon—and I'm kind o' glad it's so!)—
Got off here, Christmas morning, looked 'round the town, and then
Kind o' sized up the folks, I guess, and—went away again!
The fac's is, this man Bolus got “run in,” Christmas-day;
The town turned out to see it, and cheered, and blocked the way;
And they dragged him 'fore the Mayor—fer he couldn't er wouldn't walk—
And socked him down fer trial—though he couldn't er wouldn't talk!
The town turned out to see it, and cheered, and blocked the way;
And they dragged him 'fore the Mayor—fer he couldn't er wouldn't walk—
And socked him down fer trial—though he couldn't er wouldn't talk!
Drunk? They was no doubt of it!—W'y, the marshal of the town
Laughed and testified 'at he fell up-stairs 'stid o' down!
This man by the name of Bolus?—W'y, he even drapped his jaw
And snored on through his “hearin'”—drunk as you ever saw!
Laughed and testified 'at he fell up-stairs 'stid o' down!
1299
And snored on through his “hearin'”—drunk as you ever saw!
One feller spit in his boot-leg, and another 'n' drapped a small
Little chunk o' ice down his collar,—but he didn't wake at all!
And they all nearly split when his Honor said, in one of his witty ways,
To “chalk it down fer him, ‘Called away—be back in thirty days!’”
Little chunk o' ice down his collar,—but he didn't wake at all!
And they all nearly split when his Honor said, in one of his witty ways,
To “chalk it down fer him, ‘Called away—be back in thirty days!’”
That's where this man named Bolus slid, kind o' like in a fit,
Flat on the floor; and—drat my ears! I hear 'em a-laughin' yit!
Somebody fetched Doc Sifers from jes' acrost the hall—
And all Doc said was, “Morphine! We're too late!” and that's all!
Flat on the floor; and—drat my ears! I hear 'em a-laughin' yit!
Somebody fetched Doc Sifers from jes' acrost the hall—
And all Doc said was, “Morphine! We're too late!” and that's all!
That's how they found his name out—piece of a letter 'at read:
“Your wife has lost her reason, and little Nathan's dead—
Come ef you kin,—fergive her—but, Bolus, as fer me,
This hour I send a bullet through where my heart ort to be!”
“Your wife has lost her reason, and little Nathan's dead—
Come ef you kin,—fergive her—but, Bolus, as fer me,
This hour I send a bullet through where my heart ort to be!”
1300
Man by the name of Bolus!—As his revilers broke
Fer the open air, 'peared-like, to me, I heerd a voice 'at spoke—
Man by the name of Bolus! git up from where you lay—
Git up and smile white at 'em, with your hands crossed thataway!
Fer the open air, 'peared-like, to me, I heerd a voice 'at spoke—
Man by the name of Bolus! git up from where you lay—
Git up and smile white at 'em, with your hands crossed thataway!
| The Complete Works of James Whitcomb Riley | |