 | Phœnixiana; or, Sketches and burlesques |  |
124
SANDYAGO—A SOLIQUY.
Oh my what a trying thing it is for a feller
To git kooped up in this ere little plais
Where the males dont run reglar no how
Nor the females nuther, cos there aint none.
But by the mails I mean the post orifices
By which we git our letters and sufforth
From the Atlantic States and the British Provinces
But here there aint no kind of a chance
Except by the Sutherner or the leky Fremont
Which runs very seldom, and onst in the latter
I come to this plais, and wisht I was furder.
The natives is all sorts complected
Some white, some black, & some kinder speckled,
And about fourteen rowdy vagabonds
That gits drunk and goes round lickin every body.
And four stores to every white human
Which are kept by the children of Zion
Where they sell their goods bort at auction
At seven times more than they costed,
With a grand jury thats sittin forever
But dont never seem to indite nothin,
And if they do what comes on it
The petty ones finds em not guilty
And then they go off much in licker
And hit the fust feller they come to.
All night long in this sweet little village
You hear the soft note of the pistol
With the pleasant screak of the victim
To git kooped up in this ere little plais
Where the males dont run reglar no how
Nor the females nuther, cos there aint none.
But by the mails I mean the post orifices
By which we git our letters and sufforth
From the Atlantic States and the British Provinces
But here there aint no kind of a chance
Except by the Sutherner or the leky Fremont
Which runs very seldom, and onst in the latter
I come to this plais, and wisht I was furder.
The natives is all sorts complected
Some white, some black, & some kinder speckled,
And about fourteen rowdy vagabonds
That gits drunk and goes round lickin every body.
And four stores to every white human
Which are kept by the children of Zion
Where they sell their goods bort at auction
At seven times more than they costed,
With a grand jury thats sittin forever
But dont never seem to indite nothin,
And if they do what comes on it
The petty ones finds em not guilty
And then they go off much in licker
And hit the fust feller they come to.
All night long in this sweet little village
You hear the soft note of the pistol
With the pleasant screak of the victim
125
Whose been shot prehaps in his gizzard.
And all day hosses is running
With drunken greasers astraddle
A hollerin and hoopin like demons
And playin at billiards and monte
Till they've nary red cent to ante
Having busted up all the money
Which they borryed at awful percentage
On ranches which they haint no title
To, and the U. S. board of commission
Will be derned if they ever approve it.
While the squire he goes round a walkin
And sasses all respectable persons
With his talk of pills he's invented
To give a spirit of resentment.
And persons fite duels on paper.
Oh its awful this here little plais is
And quick as my business is finished
I shall leave here you may depend on it
By the very first leky steambote,
Or if they are all of em busted
I'll hire a mule from some feller
And just put out to Santy Clara.
And all day hosses is running
With drunken greasers astraddle
A hollerin and hoopin like demons
And playin at billiards and monte
Till they've nary red cent to ante
Having busted up all the money
Which they borryed at awful percentage
On ranches which they haint no title
To, and the U. S. board of commission
Will be derned if they ever approve it.
While the squire he goes round a walkin
And sasses all respectable persons
With his talk of pills he's invented
To give a spirit of resentment.
And persons fite duels on paper.
Oh its awful this here little plais is
And quick as my business is finished
I shall leave here you may depend on it
By the very first leky steambote,
Or if they are all of em busted
I'll hire a mule from some feller
And just put out to Santy Clara.
“The Judge” looks melancholy!—He knows that this is
Phœnix's Last, and that's exactly “where the shoe pinches.”
This squib is adapted to the comprehension of the meanest
shoemaker.
| Phœnixiana; or, Sketches and burlesques | |