A Stockman's Adventures In New York Poem by William Lawrence Chittenden

A Story of the Bunco Game.


When I give up trail-herdin', an' thought I'd jes' vamoose,
An' see my nativ' kentry in a first-class freight caboose,
I wuz called er knowin' feller, and I owned the Z Bar brand,
Fer in getherin' maverick yearlin's, I hed proved a lively hand.

I hed heerd thet New York city wuz a dandy place fer camps,
With water, grass, 'n clover-(pervided yer hed stamps).
So I riz a heap uv munney fer my pasture at 'the Branch';
An' got shet uv all my cattle thet wuz on the Z Bar Ranch;
Then I bouth a new sombrero, an' an outfit thet wuz neat,
An', sez I, 'Wal newow, ole feller, we'll get there with both feet.'

So I red to Jersey City, an' struck the round-ups there,
An' got aboard er steamer, an' took passage fer the fair;
When at last the vessel landed I broke from her ole pen,
An' galloped 'cross a dirty trail uv teams an' cussin' men;
An' up ole Cortlandt street I rolled, er-feelin' kinder blue,
When all ter onct, a feller cum an' sez, 'Why, heow de do?

I use'ter know yer in the West, yer name iz Joseph Breen?'
'Yer wrong!' sez I, 'I'm Texas riz, I cum from Abilene,
An on the ole T diamond trail they calls me Jeeter Brown.
This hyar is my furst takin' in uv this hyar takin' town!'
'Oh, ah,' he sez, 'excuse me, sar! I'm wrong, I see- good day.'
An' then he vamoosed in the crowd, an' I hit big Broadway-

Huh! there's a canyon fer yer! with houses on each side,
An' the streams er-flowin' through hit iz a roarin' human tide;
The Clear Fork of the Brazos, hit ain't nuthin', so I say,
Ter the noisy roarin' torrints wot's a-flowin' through Broadway.
Oh, them crows jes' kep' a-comin', allers rushin', hurryin' through,
An' there wuz thousands uv 'em, but nary one I knew.

Then I felt kinder home-sick fer my dugout in the vale,
Whar the ole owls wuz a-hooin' on the ole McKenzie Trail;
Whar the cattle wuz a-browzin' on the yeller-blossomed sod,
An' the pious plains wuz sleepin' with the drowsy dreams uv God!
Oh, I longerd fer them perairies in ole Texas far away,
Fer I felt like I was smotherin' on that suffercatin' day.

Wal, az I stood there studdyin', feelin' lonesumlike and down,
A hansum feller cum an' sed, 'Why how-dy! Jeeter Brown?
When did yer leave ole Texas? Wot's the news in Abilene?
Heow iz Jim Lowden at the Bank, heow iz ole Keyrnal Deane?
I guess yer don't remember me, but I remembers you,
I've often seen yer on the Range down by the Kickapoo.
I us'ter live in Abilene, my uncle's Theo Heyck.
He's sot me up in business hyar, my name is Charles Van Slike.

'Neow, you must jes' put with me while stayin' hyar in town,
Fer I'm powerful glad ter see yer, my ole friend, Jeeter Brown.'
Wal, I commenced er-swellin', kinder tickled at sech talk,
From taht hansum-lookin' feller on the Broadway uv New York;
He knew my town's best people, an' hit 'peered like he knew me,
So I wuz glad ter see him, I wuz Lonesum, don't yer see?

Wal, Van he soon suggested thet we drink an' hev a chat
About our friends in Texas an' ole times an' sech ez thet;
So we mozied up the Bowery inter one uv them saloons
Whar the gals wiz slingin' whiskey an' a band wuz slingin' chunes.
Then we drank ter Editor Hoeny, we drank ter Keyrnal Deane,
An' we drank ter Sam Lapowski of the town of Abilene.

Oh, the likker flowed like water, huh, I tell yer, we wuz gay-
Oh, Van wuz jes' a daisy, an' I won't ferget that day.
When we left thet thar The-a-ter-an went shyin' up the street,
I wuz feelin' powerful frisky-kinder skittish 'round the feet.
Soon we cum to a Museum-what they showed a hump-back horse,
An' Charley, he suggested thet we take hit in-uv course.

So we went inside sight-seein', till we met a chap who sed
He could tell us our char-ack-ters by a-feelin' ub our head;
So we had our heads examined, most particularly mine,
Fer I wuz a splendid subjeck, full uv bumps, an' traits-an' wine.

Wal, after Doc had lectured in er most delightful way,
He perlitely intermated thet he'd like to hev sum pay,
Then Charley showed a greenback, which the Doctor couldn n't change,
So, of course, I paid the charges, which appeared a little strange,
Fer the ole chap hed dun told us thet hiz lecture would be free,
But, since Van wuz in fer payin', why, so wuz I, yer see.

Right then I showed my money, the whole big chuffy pile,
Till Can commenced hiz smilin', and said that I'd struck ile;
Then he whispered confidential, sez he, 'Now, Jeeter Brown,
You'd better leave thet at the Bank afore you pain this town.
The city's full uv sharpers, who are sure ter take you in,
So let's go 'round to my cashyeer and hive away yer tin.'

So we stepped 'around the corner' to what hiz Bank wuz at,
What we found a cashyeer writin', who wuz plezzant-like an' fat.
Then I handed him my money, and took a big receipt,
An' after drinkin' tew the Bank, we started up the street.

The 'lectric lights wuz sizzin', fer hit wuz gittin' dark,
But we took them high-up steam-kyars, ter go to Central Park;
An' we passed a beefy feller, full of New York Irish pride,
Who kep' up an awful yellin', 'step lively there inside!'
But I soon lost my desires fer ter see the flyin' views,
Fer I wuz feelin' drowsy from thet Bowery Banker's Booze,
An' I never noticed Charley, may be so he wuz n't there.
Fer I fell asleep a-rockin', an' a-rushin' through the air.

But hit hain't no us'ter finish, the sequil's kinder tame,
Fer yer see, I wuz the victum uv thet little Bunco Game.
Slick Charley an' hiz pardners-the man on Cortlandt Street,
That cashyeer an' thet Doctor, hed done me up complete.
Though I got my ole six-shooter, an' caved and' charged around
A-lookin' fer my munney, them chaps could not be found.

Ah, them Bunco Boys iz artful, az all pious men agree,
If yer ever run across 'em, jes' round 'em up-fer me!
An' when yer social fellers leaves the home-range with yer chork,
Jest remember my experiunce with them sharpers in New York.