The Complete Poetical Works of Robert Buchanan :: :: University of Virginia Library

I was raised in the land where the sun don't set,
And the men ain't crook-neck squashes;
I can see as fur as most I've met,
And know what almighty bosh is.
I guess I rile when I see a snake,
And I jedge a dog by his bark,
I'm putty consid'rable wide-awake;
So I do admire at my own mistake
In the matter of Cunnle Shark.

The Cunnle he was the pride of the place,
And his ways were most amazin';
The hair was singed from his cheeks and face
With etarnal powder blazin’;

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His skin was covered with red tattoo
Like a tree with a streaked-up bark;
He'd been ripp'd and riddled till all was blue,—
You'd star' a spell if you heard a few
Of the ways of Cunnle Shark.

One eye was glass, and the other real,
His cheeks were scarred and bony,
A bullet had blown away his heel,
So he limped on an iron pony;
For hands he'd only a thumb on his right,
And nothin' else to remark;
With his left, I guess, he used to fight,
And to see his style was a pleasant sight,
For a cur'ous man was Shark.

The Cunnle he had a hickory stick,
All notches you couldn't number,
For he took his knife and he made a nick
When he sent a man to slumber;
He notched it neat as an almanack,
Or a ledger kept by a clerk;
'Twas ‘Blood and thunder! stick slick! crick! crack!’
And he wiped his tools, and he turned his back
To nick the slain, did Shark.

His style in the street was a sight to see,
And the way'd be cleared politely,
And he'd chaw and swagger and spit so free,
With his glass eye glaring brightly.
At the bar he'd stand and the paper read,
As ready to bite as bark,
And the folk would whisper, they would indeed,
‘Ah, there's a man who's no pumkin seed!’
The pride o' the place was Shark.

What hed he done? Why, he'd fought and bled,
And was ready late and early;
He shot his own brother as dead as lead,
On a p'int of honour, fairly.
He'd never flinch and he paid his way,
And he never drew in the dark;
He'd been known to sarse six men in a day,—
And sure as ever there rose a fray,
Why, in went Cunnle Shark.

Though the bullets were thick as hail somehow
He'd keep as fresh as a tulip,
Then out he'd come and wipe his brow,
And call for a sherry-julep.
His life by a sort of charm was kept,
And the smartest missed their mark;
So when on the shady side he stept,
To the other side creation crept,
At the sight o' Cunnle Shark.

The Cunnle drank with his friends down here,
And let 'em pay for the liquor;
But his way with strangers was rayther queer,
Sharper, I guess, and quicker.
When a stranger entered he'd rile a few,
And his brow would wrinkle dark:
‘Stranger,’ he'd say, ‘I'll liquor with you!’
And if the poor cuss said, ‘I'm dern'd if you do,’
Why, in went Cunnle Shark.

There was a man!—Jest the sort o' grit
You don't raise out of Ameriky,
Honest and ready, lickety-split,
For white man, nigger, or Cherokee;
And useful in bringin' of Cain to book
When thieves were beginnin' to lark;
And the Sheriff of Grizzly, R. S. Rooke,
Was the only party that dared to look
In the eye of Cunnle Shark.

Whenever the Sheriff had work on hand,
And a dern'd deep case to tunnel,
He'd load his persuaders and dress up grand,
And send up town for the Cunnle;
Then off they'd slip, and the thieves pursue,
And hunt 'em light and dark,
And livin' or dead they'd nail the crew;
And drunk for a week they'd be, them two,
The Sheriff and Cunnle Shark.

Now when two men are particklar great,
Of the same proud flesh and feather,
The same free airth, by a kind o' fate,
Won't hold them both together.
And it came about that these two fine cocks,
All flitter, flutter, and squark,

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Began to fret in the same old box;
And each grew sarsier in his socks,
The Sheriff and Cunnle Shark.

Friends they had been, and wal content!
But the best o' weather grows windy,
And they saw the chaps wherever they went
Lookt out by rights for the shindy;
To funk because they were bosom friends,
Would be to miss the mark,
And so, for to serve the public ends,
To Cheriss's Store each party wends,
The Sheriff and Cunnle Shark.

Wal, how it riz, and which side began,
I know no more 'n a nigger,
But the Cunnle he clean ript up his man
Before he could touch a trigger;
And R. S. Rooke, for a partin' spell,
Made this yer dyin' remark,
‘Cunnle, yur hand!’ (then he flopped and fell):
‘Of all the game critters that's out o' hell.
The gamest is Cunnle Shark!’

So Cunnle Shark was left alone
For our particklar glory,
And he stalk'd about, and the place was his own,
And was praised in song and story:
And when the Sheriff had run his race,
And been snuff'd like any spark,
It soon was settled in all the place
That the Sheriff's post, as an act of grace,
Should go to Cunnle Shark.

So we wash'd our faces and fixed our clothes,
And got up a deputation,
And down to the end of the town we goes
For the Sheriff's consecration;
And cockin' under his Kansas hat
His old glass eye to mark,
With his legs in the air, as lean as a rat,
Squirting the juice around him, sat
The pride o' the people, Shark.

‘Cunnle!’ says I; and ‘Sir!’ he says,
And ‘Cunnle!’ again I utter'd,
‘You are the pride of the human race,
And your bread ain't yet half butter'd!
Hon'rable, chipper, bold, and free,
A man for the world to mark—
Grit of the earth and salt of the sea;’
And there I stopt, and the Cunnle he
Says, ‘My name is Cunnle Shark!’

‘Ongcore!’ cries one, and the Cunnle set
His eye in the chap's direction.
‘I was born in the sunny South, I bet!
And to sarse I've some objection;
My words is few, and my deeds is known—
I never kept 'em dark.
You want me to be your Sheriff? Done!’
And he rose and stretch'd his limbs in the sun;
‘Let's liquor!’ says Cunnle Shark.

That very moment we hear a cry,
And in rush'd Abner Yoker
(Though Abner's small, he's fierce and spry,
And as hard as any poker).
His cheeks were hollow and all aghast,
And he spoke with a gulp and a jark;
‘Stop! stop!’ he shrieks, all fierce and fast:
‘I've found who stole my hosses at last—
Thet cuss of the airth, E. Shark!’

We stared and shiver'd, and gasped for breath,
And each was a panting funnel,
For we thought that Abner was in for death,
To talk so fierce to the Cunnle;
But the Cunnle he was pale a few,
And he seem'd all staring stark
‘He stole my hosses, and sold 'em too!’
Pale and shivering through and through,
‘It's a Lie!’ gasped Cunnle Shark.

He skew'd one eye, and he twitched his mouth,
And the glass eye glared and glisten'd;
‘O yes! I was riz in the sunny South,
And Ephraim Shark I was christen'd!’
‘What's this? The Cunnle a thief!’ we cried—
‘Thet man—of honour the spark!
Couldn't be true! What—creation's pride!’
‘Wal, here's my witnesses at my side,’
Cried Abner; ‘I charges Shark!’

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Then before the Cunnle could draw or speak,
The little one sprang and tript him;
While we admired at his thunderin' cheek,
Slick hand and foot he clipt him:
And he drew his teeth (one big bowie,
And pistols) with no remark—
Then tied him fast with a grin o' glee!
‘I call for a Court to sit,’ says he,
‘In the case of Cunnle Shark!’

It's orful how guilt unnerves a cuss—
The Cunnle was clean dumfounded;
And now no longer he'd charms for us,
Though his dern'd old teeth he grounded,
But I confess I was full o' grief
To see a man o' mark,
Respected, happy, of all the chief,
Turn out that scum of the airth, a thief,
And I wept for Cunnle Shark.

For a moral place was Grizzly Creek,
No spot to pilfer and pick in.
If a thief was caught, 'twas slickity squeak,
And up he was sent a-kickin’.
The preciousest thing in the Creek was a Hoss,
As dear as the dove to the Ark!
But a man or two was no grit loss,
And life, you guess, was a pitch and a toss
To more than Cunnle Shark.

We form'd a court on the spot jest there,
With his geese around us sissin’,
Jedge and jury, and all things square,
And a Testament for kissin’.
The bob'link cried from the laylock spray
And answer'd the meadow-lark;
The corn was yellow upon thet day,
And the mornin' glories lookt bright and gay
Round the hut o' Cunnle Shark.

Natur' is natur'! When Shark was bound,
And beyond more ruination,
No end o' witnesses were found
Who'd been part of the deputation!
And they said they'd allays long'd to speak
Of his doin's in the dark,
Only—they'd never found the cheek
T' accuse such a pop'lar man in the Creek
As the fightin' Cunnle Shark.

‘Guilty!’—Guilty, and no mistake,
For the proofs were black as thunder.
I saw the Cunnle tremble and shake,
And his knees a-knocking under.
With a voice that shook, for the Cunnle he
Had been sech a man o' mark,
I spoke his sentence, and it should be
‘To be swung by the neck to the nearest tree!’
‘Euchred!’ shrieked Cunnle Shark.

‘Pris'ner,’ says I, ‘it unnerves a man
To hev this ugly duty,
And to think how promisin' you began—
A character full of beauty.
In the ways of virtue you shot ahead,
War' honour'd both light and dark;
And you've come to this! To be jedged,’ I said,
‘To be hung by the neck till you air dead.’
‘O Lord!’ cried Cunnle Shark.

Yes, he stared at fust like a skeery child,
And all his game departed.
I could have kick'd him—I felt so riled
To find him chicken-hearted.
But, you see, to be stript of his hard-eern'd fame
And life at one big jark,
To find his glory all brought to shame,
And to go from life with so bad a name,
Was dern'd hard lines on Shark.

But when he saw his last kerd was play'd,
The Cunnle show'd his mettle.
‘Wal, boys,’ says he, ‘it's a mess I've made,
And this durn'd old neck must settle.
Let this yer teach ye to mind the law,
And play no tricks in the dark.
Abner Yoker, jest shake my paw!
Neow, feel in my pants, and give me a chaw!’
Was the last words spoke by Shark.

He could see the men in the corn-patch nigh,
And could hear the lark a-singin’,
As we carried him to the wood jest by,
Where the hang-birds cried a-swingin’;

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For Abner Yoker he found a cord
On the hitchin'-post in the park:
We gave him one minute to pray to the Lord,
And with glass eye glaring and cheeks scarscored,
Swish! up ran Cunnle Shark!

I was raised in the land where the sun don't set,
And the men ain't crook-neck squashes!
I can see as fur as most I've met,
And know what almighty bosh is;
But I never have seen a career to break
So bright, and to end so dark;
I'm putty consid'rable wide-awake,
So I do admire at my own mistake
In the matter of Cunnle Shark.