c^ 
 
PS 
 
 CORNELL 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 GIFT OF 
 
 '*KfA, 
 
Cornell University Library 
 
 PS 1902.P6 1912 
 
 3 1924 022 251 346 
 
>.,d 
 
 -C-^L-V 
 
 7 
 
 L^ 
 
Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of this book is in 
 the Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924022251346 
 
Ma^/ 
 
 J o I 
 
 I ^PiKeCounty Ballads 
 
 Illustrated by 
 
 N.CWYETH: 
 
 
 Houghton Mifflin Company 
 Boston and New York 
 
\(.y~^<^\ 
 
 COFVKTGHT, 1S7I AND 1800, BV JOHN HAY 
 
 corvRrciiT, 1912, bv houghton mifflin company 
 
 ALL RIGHTS RESEUVED 
 
 Fubli^hcd Ortobfir IQI2 
 
 ^. -^^7;;)?3 
 
Illustrator's Preface 
 
 REEKING with the swaggering spirit and cus- 
 toms of the early river-settlements along the 
 Mississippi, the I-'ikc County Ballads succeed pre- 
 eminently in contemporizing the reader with th<jse 
 remote days. Living fragments lifted bodily and 
 placed beneath our very eyes! 
 
 We hear the creak (j1 wagons o\Tr the prairie 
 roads; the lurch and strain (jf the stage-coach in the 
 dark, the crack of the whij^, and men's V(jices. 
 
 We are made to know that the sun flames upon 
 the broad l)osom of the Mississi])"pi, and that the 
 white, wheezing riverd:)oats are gleaming on its sur- 
 face, ever trailing their long waving banners of 
 wood-smoke. 
 
 We hear the din of a fight in "Taggart's Hall"; 
 we can smell the rum and toliacco, and note the 
 glint of a quickly mo\"ing " Derringer" or the l)road 
 flash of a Bowie knife. We sense infinitely of 
 these things. 
 
 3 
 
ILLUSTRATOR'S PREFACE 
 
 And I have endeavored here to add my mite to 
 these already potent lines; to lift the curtain inter- 
 mittently, to draw the veil aside,- cautiously, and 
 look upon the unsuspecting folk of Pike County. 
 
 N. C. Wyeth. 
 
Contents and Illustrations 
 
 Jim Bhidso -, 
 
 He ivere n't no saint, — thent engineers 
 
 Is all pretty much alike 8 
 
 Little Breeches 13 
 
 No four-year-old i?i the county 
 
 Could beat Iiim for pretty and strong 14 
 
 Banty Tim 19 
 
 But lie staggered up, and packed me off, 
 
 With a dozen stumbles and falls 20 
 
 The Mystery of Giloal ....... 25 
 
 / ax yer parding, Mister Phinn — 
 
 Jest drop that whisky-skin ....... 26 
 
 GOLYER 31 
 
 Over hill and holler and ford and creek 
 
 Jest like the hosses had uings, we tore . . . .32 
 
 The Pledge at Spunky Point .39 
 
 The Deacon and Parson Skeeters 
 
 In the tail of a game of Draw 40 
 
Jiiimli 
 
 V ;) 
 
lie were lit no saint, — them engineers 
 Is all pretty miieh alike 
 
iJiMmiJbso' 
 
 at t/m 
 PRMRJEBELLE 
 
 /«53 
 
 WALL, no! I can't tell whar he lives, 
 Becase he don't live, you see; 
 Leastways, he's got out of the habit 
 Of li\in' like you and me. 
 Whar have you been for the last three year 
 That you have n't heard folks tell 
 How Jimmy Bludso passed in his checks 
 The night of the Prairie Belle? 
 
 He were n't no saint, — them engineers 
 Is all pretty much alike, — 
 9 
 
THE PIKE COUNTY BALLADS 
 
 One wife in Natchez-under-the-Hill 
 And another one here, in Pike; 
 
 A keerless man in his talk was Jim, 
 And an awkward hand in a row. 
 
 But he never flunked, and he never Hed, - 
 I reckon he never knowed how. 
 
 And this was all the religion he had, — 
 
 To treat his engine well; 
 Ne\'er be passed on the river; 
 
 To mind the pilot's bell; 
 And if e\er the Prairie Belle took fire, — 
 
 A thousand times he swore. 
 He'd hold her nozzle agin the bank 
 
 Till the last soul got ashore. 
 
 All boats has their day on the -Mississip, 
 
 And her day come at last, — 
 The Movastar was a better boat, 
 
 But the Belle she would n't be passed, 
 
 lO 
 
JIM BLUDSO 
 
 And so she come tearin' along that night — 
 
 The oldest craft on the line — 
 With a nigger squat on her safety-valve, 
 
 And her furnace crammed, rosin and pine. 
 
 The fire bust out as she dared the bar, 
 
 And burnt a hole in the night. 
 And ciuick as a flash she turned, and made 
 
 For that willer-l)ank on the right. 
 There was runnin' and cursin', but Jim }'elled out, 
 
 0\'er all the infernal roar, 
 "I'll hold her nozzle agin the I)ank 
 
 Till the last galoot's ashore." 
 
 Through the hot, l)lack l.)reath of the burnin' boat 
 
 Jim Bludsc's voice was heard, 
 And the}' all had trust in his cussed ness. 
 
 And knowed he would keep his \\-ord. 
 And, sure's you're born, they all got off 
 
 Afore the smokestacks tell, — 
 
 II 
 
THE PIKE COUNTY BALLADS 
 
 And Bludso's ghost went up alone 
 In the smoke of the Prairie Belle. 
 
 He were n't no saint, — but at jedgment 
 
 I 'd run my chance with Jim, 
 'Longside of some pious gentlemen 
 
 That would n't shook hands with him. 
 He seen his duty, a dead-sure thing, — 
 
 And went for it thar and then ; 
 And Christ ain't a going to be too hard 
 
 On a man that died for me^*^ 
 
:(f" 
 
 Little. 
 
 OreecKes 
 
 •\ > 
 
No Joiir-yi'ur-ohl in /lie coinily 
 Could heat him for pretty and strong 
 
"Tte^ 
 
 I LITTLE £»REKHESb 
 
 4 ■ 4l 
 
 I DON'T go much on religion, 
 I never ain't had no show; 
 But I 've got a middhn' tight grip, sir, 
 
 On the handful o' things 1 know. 
 I don't pan out on the prophets 
 
 And free-will, and that sort of thing, — 
 But I b'lieve in God and the angels, 
 Ever sence one night last spring. 
 
 I come into town with some turnips, 
 And my little Gabe come along, — 
 
 No four-year-old in the county 
 
 Could beat him for pretty and strong, 
 15 
 
 "wi^.ia^- 
 
THE PIKE COUNTY BALLADS 
 
 Peart and chipper and sassy, 
 
 Always ready to swear and fight, — 
 
 And I 'd larnt him to chaw terbacker 
 Jest to keep his milk-teeth white. 
 
 The snow come down like a blanket 
 
 As I passed by Taggart's store; 
 I went in for a jug of molasses 
 
 And left the team at the door. 
 They scared at something and started, — 
 
 T heard one little squall, 
 And hell-to-split over the prairie 
 
 Went team, Little Breeches and all. 
 
 Hell-to-split over the prairie! 
 
 I was almost froze with skeer; 
 But we rousted up some torches, 
 
 And sarched for 'cm far and near. 
 At last we struck hosses and wagon. 
 
 Snowed under a soft white mound, 
 i6 
 
Upsot, dead beat, — but of little Gabe 
 No hide nor hair was found. 
 
 And here all hope soured on me, 
 
 Of my fellow-critter's aid, — 
 I jest flopped down on my marrow-bones. 
 
 Crotch-deep in the snow, and prayed. 
 
 By this, the torches was played out. 
 
 And me and Isrul Parr 
 Went of? for some wood to a sheepfold 
 
 That he said was somewhar that. 
 
 We found it at last, and a little shed 
 Where they shut up the lambs at night. 
 17 
 
THE PIKE COUNTY BALLADS 
 
 We looked in and seen them huddled thar, 
 So warm and sleepy and white; 
 
 And thar sot Little Breeches and chirped, 
 As peart as ever you see, 
 "I want a chaw of ter backer, 
 
 And that's what's the matter of me." 
 
 How did he git thar? Angels. 
 
 He could never have walked in that storm. 
 They jest scooped down and toted him 
 
 To whar it was safe and warm. 
 And I think that saving a little child, 
 
 And fotching him to his own. 
 Is a derned sight better business 
 
 Than loafing around The Throne. 
 
t^A.^-}.'. t 
 
But he staggered up, and packed me off, 
 With a dozen stumbles and Jails 
 
,,^. 
 
 \ 
 
 BANTY TlMj ' 
 
 1^ ^ - 
 
 (REMARKS OF SERGEANT TILMON JOY TO THE 
 WHITE man's COMMITTEE OF SPUNKY POINT, 
 ILLINOIS.) 
 
 I RECKON I git your drift, gents, — 
 You 'low the boy sha' n't stay; 
 This is a white man's country; 
 You're Dimocrats, you say; 
 And whereas, and seein', and wherefore, 
 
 The times bein' all out o' j'int, 
 The nigger has got to mosey 
 
 From the limits o' Spunky P'int! 
 
 Le's reason the thing a minute; 
 
 I 'm an old-fashioned Dimoerat too, 
 
 21 
 
THE PIKE COUNTY BALLADS 
 
 Though I laid my politics out o' the way 
 For to keep till the war was through. 
 
 But I come back here, allovvin' 
 To vote as I used to do, 
 
 Though it gravels mc like the devil to train 
 Along o' sich fools as you. 
 
 Now dog my cats ef I kin see, 
 
 In all the light of the day, 
 What you 've got to do with the question 
 
 Ef Tim shill go or stay. 
 And furder than that I give notice, 
 
 Ef one of you tetches the boy. 
 He kin check his trunks to a warmer clime 
 
 Than he'll find in lUanoy. 
 
 Why, blame your hearts, jest hear me! 
 
 You know that ungodly day 
 When our left struck Vicksburg Heights, how ripped 
 
 And torn and tattered we lay. 
 
 22 
 
BANTY TIM 
 
 When the rest retreated I stayed behind, 
 
 Fur reasons sufficient to me, — 
 With a rib caved in, and a leg oh a strike, 
 
 1 sprawled on that cursed giacee. 
 
 Lord! how the hot sun went for us, 
 
 And br'iled and blistered and burned! 
 I low the Rebel bullets whizzed round us 
 
 When a cuss in his death-grip turned! 
 Till along toward dusk I seen a thing 
 
 I could n't believe for a spell: 
 That nigger — that Tim — was a crawlin' to me 
 
 Through that fire-proof, gilt-edged hell! 
 
 The Rebels seen him as cjuick as me, 
 
 And the bullets buzzed like bees; 
 But he jumped for me, and shouldered me. 
 
 Though a shot brought him once to his knees; 
 But he staggered up, and packed me off, 
 
 With a dozen stumbles and falls, 
 
 23 
 
THE PIKE COUNTY BALLADS 
 
 Till safe in our lines he drapped us both, 
 His black hide riddled with balls. 
 
 So, my gentle gazelles, thar's my answer, 
 
 And here stays Banty Tim: 
 He trumped Death's ace for nie that day, 
 
 And I 'm not goin' back on him! 
 You may rezoloot till the cows come home, 
 
 But ef one of you tetches the boy. 
 He'll wrastle his hash to-night in hell, 
 
 Or my name's not Tilmon Joy! 
 
 ,^'-^ 
 
S^Gilgal 
 
/ ax yer parding, Mis/rr Pltinn- 
 Jest drap Ihnl whisky-skin 
 
THE darkest, strangest mystery 
 I ever read, or heern, or see, 
 Is 'long of a drink at Taggart's Hall, — 
 Tom Taggart's of Gilgal. 
 
 I've heern the tale a thousand ways, 
 But never could git through the maze 
 That hangs around that queer day's doin's; 
 But I '1! tell the yarn to youans. 
 
 Tom Taggart stood behind his bar, 
 The time was fall, the skies was fa'r, 
 The neighbors round the counter drawed, 
 And ca'mly drinked and jawed. 
 27 
 
At last come Colonel Blood of Pike, 
 And old Jedge Phinn, permiscus-like, 
 And each, as he meandered in, 
 Remarked, "A whisky-skin." 
 
 Tom mixed the lieverage full and fa'r. 
 And slammed it, smoking, on the bar. 
 Some says three fingers, some says two, — 
 I'll leave the choice to you. 
 
 Phinn to the drink put forth his hand ; 
 Blood drawed his knife, with accent bland, 
 " I ax yer parding, Mister Phinn — 
 Jest drap that whisky-skin." 
 28 
 
0»^ 
 
 No man high-toneder could-be found 
 Than old Jedgc Phinn the country rouncL 
 Says he, "Y<jung" man, the tribe of Phinns 
 Knows their own whisky-skins!" 
 
 He A\ent for his 'le\T'n-nich lj(n\ ic-knifc: — 
 "I tries to foller a Christian hfe; 
 But I '11 drap a slice of li\ er or two, 
 Aly bloomin' shrul), withiyou." 
 
 They carved in a way that all admired. 
 Tell Blood drawed iron at last, and fired. 
 It t<jok Seth Bludso 'twixt the eyes. 
 Which caused him great surprise. 
 29 
 
THE MYSTERY OF GILGAL 
 
 Then coats went off, and all went in; 
 Shots and bad language swelled the din ; 
 The short, sharp bark of Derringers, 
 Like bull-pups, cheered the furse. 
 
 They piled the stiffs outside the door; 
 They made, I reckon, a cord or more. 
 Girls went that winter, as a rule, 
 Alone to spellin'-school. 
 
 I've sarched in vain, from Dan to Beer- 
 Sheba, to make this mystery clear; 
 But I end with hit as I did begin, — 
 "Who got the whisky-skin?" 
 
GoK^e 
 
 r 
 
Over hill and holler and ford and creek 
 Jest like the hosses had winas, we tore 
 
r:%\ 
 
 ^i-v 
 
 M,, 
 
 ci^ 
 
 1 G OLY^ERJ. f 
 
 EF the way a man lights out of this world 
 Helps fix his heft for the other sp'ere, 
 I reckon m^^ old friend Golyer's Ben 
 Will lay over lots of likelier men 
 For one thing he done down here. 
 
 Vou did n't know Ben? He driv a stage 
 
 On the line they called the Old Sou'-west; 
 He wa'n't the best man that ever you seen, 
 And he wa'n't so ungodly pizen mean, — ■ 
 No better nor worse than the rest. 
 
 33 
 
He was hard on women and rough on his friends; 
 
 And he did n't have many, I'll let 3'ou know; 
 He hated a dog and disgusted a cat, 
 But he 'd run off his legs for a motherless brat, 
 
 And I guess there's many jess so. 
 
 I 've seed my sheer of the run of things, 
 
 I 've hoofed it a many and many a miled. 
 But I never seed nothing that could or can 
 Jest git all the good from the heart of a man 
 Like the hands oi a little child. 
 
 Well! this young one I started to tell you about, — 
 His folks was all dead, I was fctchin' him 
 through, — 
 
 34 
 

 '-:^ 
 
 He was just at the age that's loudest for lioys, 
 And he blowed such a horn with his sarchin' smaU 
 voice, 
 We called him "the Little Boy Blue." 
 
 He ketchcd a sight of Ben on the box, 
 
 And you bet he bawled and kicked and howled, 
 
 For to git 'long of Ben, and ride thar too; 
 
 I tried to tell him it would n't do, 
 When suddenly Clolyer growled/. 
 
 " \A'hat's the use of making the young one cry? 
 
 Say, what's the use of Ijeing a fool? 
 Sling the little one up here whar he can see, 
 He won't git the snuffles a-ridin' with me, — 
 
 The night ain't an}- too cool." 
 
 35 
 
THE PIKE COUNTY BALLADS 
 
 The child hushed cryin' the minute he spoke; 
 
 "Come up here, Major! don't let him slip." 
 And jest as nice as a woman could do, 
 He wropped his blanket around them two. 
 
 And was off in the crack of a whip. 
 
 We rattled along an hour or so, 
 
 Till we heerd a yell on the still night air. 
 Did you ever hear an Apache yell? 
 Well, ye need n't want to, this side of hell; 
 
 There's nothing more de\ ilish there. 
 
 Caught in the shower of lead and flint 
 
 We felt the old stage stagger and plunge; 
 Then we heerd the vrjice and the whip of Ben, 
 As he gethered his critters up again. 
 And tore away with a lunge. 
 
 The passengers laughed. "Old Ben's all right. 
 He's druv five year and never was struck." 
 
 36 
 
"Now if I'd been thar, as sure as you live, 
 They'd 'a' plugged me with holes as thick as 
 a sieve; 
 It's the reg'lar Gol>-er luck." 
 
 Over hill and holler and ford and creek 
 
 Jest like the hosses had wings, we tore; 
 We got to Looney's, and Ben come in 
 And laid down the baby and axed for his 
 gin, 
 And dropped in a heap on the floor. 
 
 Said he, "When they fired, I kivered the 
 kid, — 
 Although I ain't pretty, I'm middlin' broad; 
 
 37 
 
THE PIKE COUNTY BALLADS 
 
 And look! he ain't fazed by arrow nor ball, — 
 Thank God! my own carcase stopped them all." 
 Then we seen his eye glaze, and his lower jaw 
 fall, — 
 And he carried his thanks to God. 
 
 f- 
 
 
 ' ■> 
 
 f ■ '> 
 
<L7Ai 
 
 Pledge 
 at 
 
 ypunl^roint 
 
 
The Deacon and Parson Skeeters 
 In the tail of a game of Draw 
 
Jh e PLEDGE at SPUNWf POINT : 
 
 A TALE OF EARNEST EFFORT AND HUMAN 
 PERFIDY 
 
 IT 'S all very well for preachin', 
 But preachin' and practice don't gee: 
 I 've give the thing a fair trial, 
 
 And you can't ring it in on me. 
 So toddle along with \'Our pledge, Squire, 
 
 Ef that's what you want me to sign; 
 Betwixt me and you, I've been thar, 
 And I '11 not take any in mine. 
 
 A year ago last Fo'th July 
 A lot of the boys was here. 
 41 
 
THE PIKE COUNTY BALLADS 
 
 We all got corned and signed the pledge 
 For to drink no more that year. 
 
 There was Tilmon Joy and Sheriff McPhail 
 And me and Abner Fry, 
 
 And Shelby's boy Leviticus 
 
 And the Golyers, Luke and Cy. 
 
 And we anteed up a hundred 
 
 In the hands of Deacon Kedge 
 For to be divided the follerin' Fo'th 
 
 'Mongst the boys that kcp' the pledge. 
 And we knowed each other so well, Squire, 
 
 You ma)' take my scalp for a fool, 
 Ef e\-ery man when he signed his name 
 
 Didn't feel cock-sure of the pool. 
 
 Fur a while it all went lovely; 
 
 We put up a job next daj' 
 Fur to make Joy b'lie\"e his wife was dead. 
 
 And he went home middlin' gay; 
 42 
 
1 hen Abner Fry he killed a man, 
 And afore he was hung McPhail 
 
 Jest bilked the vvidder outen her sheer 
 By getting him slewed in jail. 
 
 But Chris'mas scooped the Sheriff, 
 
 The egg-nogs gcthered him in; 
 And Shelby's boy Le\'ilicus 
 
 Was, New Year's, tight as sin; 
 And along in March the C.olycrs 
 
 Got so drunk that a fresh-l^iled owl 
 Would 'a' looked, 'long-side o' them two young men, 
 
 Like a solder temperance fowl. 
 
 43 
 
THE PIKE COUNTY BALLADS 
 
 Four months alone I walked the chalk, 
 
 I thought my heart would break; 
 And all them boys a-slappin' my back 
 
 And axin', "What '11 }'ou take?" 
 I never slep' without dreamin' dreams 
 
 Of Burbin, Peach, or Rye, 
 But I chawed at my niggerhead and swore 
 
 I 'd rake that pool or die. 
 
 At last — the Fo'th — I thumped myself 
 
 Through chores and breakfast soon, 
 Then scooted down to Taggarts' store — 
 
 For the pledge was off at noon; 
 And all the boys was gethered thar, 
 
 And each man hilt his glass -^— 
 Watchin' me and the clock quite solemn-like 
 
 Fur to see the last minute pass. 
 
 The clock struck twelve! I raised the jug 
 And took one lovin' pull — 
 
 44 
 
THE PLEDGE AT SPUNKY POINT 
 
 I was holler clar from skull to boots, 
 
 It seemed I could n't i^it full. 
 But I was roused by a fiendish laugh 
 
 That might ha\e raised the dead — 
 Theui ornary sneaks had sot the clock 
 
 A half an hour ahead! 
 
 "All right!" I squawked. "You've got me, 
 
 Jest order Aour drinks agin, 
 And we'll paddle up to the Deacon's 
 
 And scoop the ante in." 
 But when we got to Kedge's, 
 
 What a sight was that we saw! 
 The Deacon and Parson Skeeters 
 
 In the tail of a game of Draw. 
 
 They had shook 'em the heft of the mornin', 
 
 The Parson's luck was ta'r, 
 And he raked, the minute we got thar, 
 
 The last of our pool on a pa'r. 
 
 45 
 
THE PIKE COUNTY BALLADS 
 
 So toddle along with your pledge, Squire, 
 
 I 'low it's all \ ery line, 
 But ez fur myself, I thank ye, 
 
 I '11 not take any in mine. 
 
TKc End 
 
CAMBRIDGE . MASSACHUSETTS 
 U . S . A 
 

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