The Idyl of Battle Hollow
By Bret Harte (Francis)
No, I wont, thar, now, so! And it aint nothin, no!
And thars nary to tell that you folks yer dont know;
And its Belle, tell us, do! and its Belle, is it true?
And Wots this yer yarn of the Major and you?
Till Im sick of it all, so I am, but I spose
Thet is nothin to you. . . . Well, then, listen! yer goes!
It was after the fight, and around us all night
Thar was poppin and shootin a powerful sight;
And the niggers had fled, and Aunt Chlo was abed,
And Pinky and Milly were hid in the shed:
And I ran out at daybreak, and nothin was nigh
But the growlin of cannon low down in the sky.
And I saw not a thing, as I ran to the spring,
But a splintered fence rail and a broken-down swing,
And a bird said Kerchee! as it sat on a tree,
As if it was lonesome, and glad to see me;
And I filled up my pail and was risin to go,
When up comes the Major a-canterin slow.
When he saw me he drew in his reins, and then threw
On the gate-post his bridle, and what does he do
But come down where I sat; and he lifted his hat,
And he says well, thar aint any need to tell that;
Twas some foolishness, sure, but it mounted to this,
Thet he asked for a drink, and he wanted a kiss.
Then I said (I was mad), For the water, my lad,
Youre too big and must stoop; for a kiss, its as bad,
You aint near big enough. And I turned in a huff,
When that Major he laid his white hand on my cuff,
And he says, Youre a trump! Take my pistol, dont fear!
But shoot the next man that insults you, my dear.
Then he stooped to the pool, very quiet and cool,
Leavin me with that pistol stuck there like a fool,
When thar flashed on my sight a quick glimmer of light
From the top of the little stone fence on the right,
And I knew twas a rifle, and back of it all
Rose the face of that bushwhacker, Cherokee Hall!
Then I felt in my dread that the moment the head
Of the Major was lifted, the Major was dead;
And I stood still and white, but Lord! gals, in spite
Of my care, that derned pistol went off in my fright!
Went off true as gospil! and, strangest of all,
It actooally injured that Cherokee Hall!
Thets all now, go long! Yes, some folks thinks its wrong,
And thars some wants to know to what side I belong;
But I says, Served him right! and I go, all my might,
In love or in war, for a fair stand-up fight;
And as for the Major sho! gals, dont you know
Thet Lord! thars his step in the garden below.