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Old Friends - Essays in Epistolary Parody
LETTER: From Truthful James to Mr. Bret Harte
Andrew Lang
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LETTER: From Truthful James to Mr. Bret Harte
       WILLIAM NYE'S EXPERIMENT.
       Angel's.
       Dear Bret Harte,
       I'm in tears,
       And the camp's in the dust,
       For with anguish it hears
       As poor William may bust,
       And the last of the Nyes is in danger of
       sleeping the sleep of the just.
       No revolver it was
       Interfered with his health,
       The convivial glass
       Did not harm him by stealth;
       It was nary! He fell by a scheme which
       he thought would accumulate wealth!
       For a Moqui came round
       To the camp--Injun Joe;
       And the dollars was found
       In his pockets to flow;
       For he played off some tricks with live
       snakes, as was reckoned a competent show.
       They was rattlers; a pair
       In his teeth he would hold,
       And another he'd wear
       Like a scarf to enfold
       His neck, with them dangerous critters
       as safe as the saint was of old.
       Sez William, "That same
       Is as easy as wink.
       I am fly to his game;
       For them rattlers, I think,
       Has had all their incisors extracted.
       They're harmless as suthin' to drink."
       So he betted his pile
       He could handle them snakes;
       And he tried, with a smile,
       And a rattler he takes,
       Feeling safe as they'd somehow been
       doctored; but bless you, that sarpent awakes!
       Waken snakes! and they DID
       And they rattled like mad;
       For it was not a "kid,"
       But some medicine he had,
       Injun Joe, for persuadin' the critters but
       William's bit powerful bad.
       So they've put him outside
       Of a bottle of Rye,
       And they've set him to ride
       A mustang as kin shy,
       To keep up his poor circulation; and
       that's the last chance for Bill Nye.
       But a near thing it is,
       And the camp's in the dust.
       He's a pard as we'd miss
       If poor Bill was to bust -
       If the last of the Nyes were a-sleepin
       the peaceable sleep of the just. _