Dumb Swede
With barbwire hooch they filled him full,
Till he was drunker than all hell,
And then they peddled him the bull
About a claim they had to sell.
A thousand bucks they made him pay,
Knowing that he had nothing more,
And when he begged it back next day,
And wept! —they kicked him from the door.
They reckoned they were mighty slick,
Them two tinhorns from Idaho;
That poor dumb Swede could swing a pick,
but that was all he’d ever know.
So sitting in a poker game,
They lost the price for which they sold
To that bonehead a poor dud claim
That didn’t have a speck of gold.
My story’s true as gospel creed
Of these bright boys from Idaho;
They made a sucker of that Swede
And laughed to see the poor boob go,
And work like nigger on his ground,
Bucked by the courage of despair . . .
Till lo! A rich pay—streak he found,
That made him twice a millionaire.
So two smart Alecs, mighty sick,
Begged jobs at fifteen bucks a day.
Then said the Swede: “Give each a pick
And let them sweat to make their pay.”
And though he don’t know what it means,
Folks call that Swede “magnanimous”
—But picking nuggets big as beans,
you oughta’ hear them fellers cuss!
Altre opere di Robert W. Service...
