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JAN -4 13S8 
 
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"THE YANKEE ABROAD" 
 
 (copyright, I 9 I 7, BY JOHN N. CHESTER) 
 
 This poem by Eugene Field was written at 
 the time of his visit to London in February, 
 1890, and is indorsed in Field's handwriting, 
 "Never published." So closely has the man- 
 uscript been guarded since the author's death 
 that up to the present time very few persons 
 are aware of its existence. The original man- 
 uscript (herein reproduced in facsimile, pre- 
 cisely the same size as originally written) is 
 owned by one of our members, Mr. John N. 
 Chester, of Pittsburgh, who has kindly consented 
 to allow a few copies to be issued to the mem- 
 bers of The Bibliophile Society. 
 
 It is singularly appropriate that this MS. 
 should have come to light at a time when 
 patriotic feelings have been stirred by our par- 
 ticipation in the present world-wide war. 
 
 [3] 
 
©C!.A48i:ji;{^>p. 
 
THE YANKEE ABROAD 
 
 Though one may be sure 
 
 Of a sense he's secure 
 
 So long as his record be open and pure, 
 
 It is better to be 
 
 Both honest like me 
 
 And born of the home of the brave and the free. 
 
 For, go where 1 may 
 
 In my wandering way, 
 
 I give little heed to whatever folks say; 
 
 And wherever 1 am, 
 
 I don't care a 
 
 For I know I'm a nephew of Old Uncle Sam! 
 
 If sometimes I choose 
 To meander the rues 
 
 Where Johnny Crapeaud a la mode parley- voos, 
 My wild wooly way 
 Is regarded au fait, 
 
 And seldom I deign to remark "see voo play;" 
 When they caper and smile, 
 (Though intent, all the while, 
 In wheedling the stranger unused to their guile), 
 
 [5] 
 
I see through the sham, 
 
 But I don't care a 
 
 Would you, if a nephew of cher I'Oncle Sam? 
 
 I've bragged of my home- 
 In the Kremlin's dull dome^ 
 The meetin' house rounds have 1 traversed in 
 
 Rome; 
 In Spain have I seen 
 What we need to keep clean — 
 They make it, not use it (it's soap that I mean I ) ; 
 I've squandered a fund on 
 The bookshops in London 
 The "banks" and the "brays" of the Scotch 
 
 have 1 punned on — 
 Yet so loyal I am 
 
 That I'd not give a 
 
 For all as against our dear Uncle Sam! 
 
 This stomach of mine 
 
 Has been warmed with the wine 
 
 That grows with the pretzel in realms of the 
 
 Rhine; 
 Been robbed of its ease 
 By the compounds that please 
 The Welchman addicted to rarebits of cheese; 
 I've skated in Poland 
 And waded Dutch lowland, 
 
 [6] 
 
And yet I'm prepared to maintain there's no 
 land 
 
 You'd call worth a 
 
 If you are (as / am) 
 
 A patriot nephew of old Uncle Sam. 
 
 Eugene Field 
 London, Feb. 22, 1890. 
 
 [7] 
 
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